


DS al Fine

by Chisscientist



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Darkening of Valinor, Eru is exasperated with everyone, Feanor is a pain, Feanor is too hotheaded to be a good general, Finrod does not know what is up with Maedhros, Flight of the Noldor, Gen, Good Older Sibling Maedhros (Tolkien), Maedhros is now officially a seer, Maedhros never does anything by halves, Maedhros teaches the Noldor warfare, Poor Maedhros, Teleri to the rescue, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, balrogs beware, brief description of Maedhros' sucide, discussion of suicide and religion in notes at end of Ch 14, divine intervention, nor does Feanor, ocean wildlife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisscientist/pseuds/Chisscientist
Summary: After the War of Wrath and the drowning of Beleriand, Eru decides he's had enough. He retrieves a newly-dead Maedhros from the void, gives him a stern lecture, and sends his fea back in time to fix his mistakes - and to save them all, if he can.
Relationships: Amras & Amrod & Caranthir & Celegorm & Curufin & Fëanor & Maedhros & Maglor (Tolkien), Finrod Felagund | Findaráto & Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros & Fingon
Comments: 65
Kudos: 163





	1. Not What I Expected

Maedhros hadn't been sure what to expect from death. He'd assumed he'd either find Namo glaring down his nose at him, or that the 'everlasting darkness' would turn out to be an end to his existence. He'd been hoping for the latter, in all honesty.

Instead, there was light, and lots of it. Nothing but light. Then a still, small, voice that didn't need to be loud to have his entire attention.

"Nelyafinwe Maitimo Maedhros Russandol," it said.

"Yes, my Lord?" said Maedhros. It was probably Lord Namo, and being polite couldn't hurt.

"Nay, child, I am not one of your Valar. I am Eru. You are in the Timeless Halls," Eru said.

"Oh," said Maedhros, feeling very small. Why was this happening to him, of all people? After everything he'd done. Eru was surely furious with him, if he cared about him at all.

"Do you regret taking the Oath of Feanor, and your actions in its pursuit?" asked Eru.

"Yes," said Maedhros quietly. The whole business had been hopeless from the start, and had brought his family nothing but ruin. Even the Silmarils had rejected them in the end.

"Then you have a choice. You can cease to exist, as you were hoping when I brought you here. You can report to Namo for judgement. Or, you can go back and do things differently this time round."

"I don't understand," said Maedhros. "How is that possible? Once part of the music has been played, surely it cannot be played again. Beyond that, I have always been told our fates are set out in the music before we are ever born."

"You are familiar with the musical term DS al fine?" asked Eru.

"I have Maglor as a brother," snapped Maedhros. "It means go back to the sign, and from then to the end." From then to the end?

"Exactly," said Eru. "The music has a potential repeat with second ending here. What would you do differently, if you could?"

"Not swear that – The Oath," said Maedhros. "Not rely on Caranthir's judgement of Ulfang and his sons. Not kill any elf over the Silmarils. Not trust Father to go back for Fingon and Fingolfin, or to behave rationally after he loses Grandfather and the Silmarils. Not attempt to treat with Morgoth to retrieve a Silmaril, then get my people killed, and myself captured for use as a hostage. Try to talk Maglor and Pityo at least out of taking the Oath."

"Do you want to do this, then?" asked Eru.

Maedhros hesitated. Would he be strong enough to resist his father's madness on that terrible night? Could he endure all that grief and pain over again, knowing what was to happen? The darkness seemed to beckon. It would be easier. But when had he ever refused to undertake a task because it was hard? This was his mess to right, if he could.

"Why are you offering me this?"

"Because I am not fully in agreement with the Valar's actions – though that does NOT mean I support yours, or Feanor's, let alone Melkor's. Know this: I never held you to your Oath. I would rather that you had broken it, than that you allowed yourself to become a mass murderer in an attempt to fulfill an Oath you should never have sworn." Eru let that sink in for a few moments.

If Maedhros could have wept, he would. It had really been so easy? All he'd needed was trust? "Why didn't you tell me?" he screamed. "I wanted to stop, but I was too damn scared I'd doom my entire family to eternal darkness if I gave up on that bloody Oath! Why didn't someone tell me?"

"Maglor tried to tell you. You knew in your heart that he was right. You let your fears drive you into evil and madness, until you slew yourself in despair."

Maedhros floated silent in the light. "But…" he began slowly. "Surely someone was holding us to it? I could feel it tugging at my mind, whispering in my heart. Did Manwe and Varda…"

"None of you asked them for release. Yet Namo has not cast your father or your brothers into the eternal darkness. Your dead kin are in Mandos."

"Then whose was the voice?" asked Maedhros.

"Can you not recognize Morgoth's voice, you who suffered so much at his hands?"

Maedhros' mind ground to a halt. He had been manipulated by the one against whom he had taken the Oath in the first place? Maedhros discovered that hysterical sobs were entirely possible after all. After an unknown time, though surely that was meaningless in the Timeless Halls, he calmed, though he still felt both sad and terribly empty.

The voice spoke up again. "I am also doing this because I love you. I know you regret your actions that harmed so many of my children, yourself not least among them. I do not like to see any child of mine destroy himself."

"How can you love me? I've become a monster as bad as the orcs." said Maedhros.

"I love you, and I always will."

"I don't understand."

"You do not have to. Only know that it is so. Will you go, and undo the evil you have done?"

"I will go, my Lord," said Maedhros. "And I will try with all I am to make things better this time."

"Just do your best," said Eru, "and my blessings will go with you."

"Thank you," Maedhros whispered.


	2. From the Repeat

Maedhros came to awareness slowly, blinking bleary eyes open to see his room in Formenos. It was lit by the gentle silver twilight of Telperien. Surely he must be dreaming… but then he remembered his strange conversation with Eru. His head hurt, and he felt strange. He raised a hand to his head, wondering what had happened to it.

"Oh, thank Eru, you're awake," said Maglor's voice.

Maedhros turned his head to see his younger brother, the only one who had remained with him to the end. And stared in shock. Maglor looked so young and innocent. No sorrow past the edge of bearing darkened his eyes. Makalaure. He wasn't Maglor yet. And perhaps, Makalaure never would be. Assuming Maedhros didn't manage to wreck this chance, too.

Makalaure shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, saying "I'd better tell Healer Carniel you're awake. We've all been worried stiff about you."

"What happened?" croaked Maedhros, reaching out his hand to reassure himself his brother was actually there before he could disappear in search of the healer. Makalaure took it, looking worried and a little perplexed.

"We were hoping you'd be able to tell us what happened," Makalaure said. "Curufinwe found you lying on the floor in the library three hours ago. You've been unconscious ever since."

"I don't know," said Maedhros. "I must have hit my head."

"It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" asked Carniel, standing in the doorway.

Maedhros blinked at her. "Headache, but I'm fine," he said slowly, releasing Makalaure's hand to push himself up on one arm. The world swam.

"Don't lie to the healer, you silly fool," said Makalaure, poking him. "Your eyes are out of focus, and you can't even sit up properly."

Maedhros glared at his brother, but gave it up as a bad job when his elbow gave out, and he landed flat on the bed again. His right arm… he had two hands! He lifted his hands and stared at his right in shock. Two hands. Gingerly, he touched his right with his left. It was really there.

He looked up to find his brother and the healer staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. No, just a decidedly not-extra hand. He'd presumably lost all his scars, too, and was back to being Maitimo, the well-formed-one, again. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to take it all in, all too aware he was behaving strangely.

"Stay with us, child," said Carniel.

Maedhros opened his eyes and glared at her, thinking child indeed. He'd bet she'd never killed anyone in her life. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she demanded.

"Two," said Maedhros. He wasn't that badly hurt. He'd been hurt far worse more than once, and he had the usual interrogation down pat.

"What is your name?"

"Maedh-timo," he said, realizing that he'd better pay attention or he could mess up royally.

"Ok. What is the date?"

Maedhros had no idea, beyond 'after Father got exiled, but before the Trees died'. He started to shake his head, then stopped, wincing at the sudden pain spike. Maybe he'd better play up this injury, rather than playing it down. Better that they think him concussed than mad. He squeezed his eyes shut, and let his head rest against the pillow.

"You've a headache, I take it?"

Maedhros said nothing, letting his body relax, and the voices recede a little.

"I don't like how he keeps blurring in and out," said Carniel. "I wish Master Tatnis was here. This could be more than a simple concussion. Did he tell you how he came to fall?"

"He said he thinks he hit his head, but I don't think he knows on what or why."

"Has he ever had any unexplained falls, fits, or losses of consciousness before?"

"Not that I know of, although I heard that he got pretty clumsy when he was growing fastest." said Makalaure. "It's too bad that father isn't here to ask. You could try asking grandfather Finwe." Makalaure took Maedhros' hand and squeezed it gently.

Father is gone, we're already at Formenos... that means the Trees haven't got much longer to live. Can I prevent that? How? When am I, exactly? Not having people think I'm mad be hanged, I need to know! Maedhros opened his eyes. "How long has father been gone?" he asked.

"You don't remember."

"No."

"He's been gone for nine days."

"Oh." No way to catch up with him. "How long until the festival?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Maedhros was silent a moment, trying to remember back the required centuries. "Manwe's messenger coming to summon Father to the festival?"

"That was months ago!" yelped Makalaure in dismay.

Maedhros winced at the high pitch his brother had hit, and closed his eyes again.

"Some memory loss is common with a concussion like this," said Carniel. "It should improve in the days ahead."

"Will he be all right?" asked Makalaure.

"Provided this is no worse than it seems. Someone should stay with him at all times, and we need to wake him at intervals of at least every half hour. There is nothing wrong with his skull, but we need to make sure he's merely asleep rather than unconscious. He's probably going to be sleeping a lot over the next few days."

His brothers insisted on sitting up with him for the rest of the hours of Telperien. Maedhros put up with it because they were worried, and because it meant he would get to see them as they were before everything fell apart. It had been so long… only a few yeni, but it felt like a lifetime. He kept seeing their faces overlain with them as they had been, dead. Feeling overwhelmed and embarrassingly over-emotional, Maedhros hid his face in the pillow. Hopefully he'd be better able to cope in the morning. He fell asleep.

The light was blinding, and the pain overwhelming. Maedhros stumbled forward, his hand clenched around the silmaril, glowing blood-red as the light and heat seared right through it. He'd failed. Even the silmaril hated him now. He began to run. Not any direction in particular. Just away, away from pain, away from failure, away from those who hated him, away from himself.

Suddenly, a great fissure in the earth opened before him. He stopped, panting. The pain was still with him, and all his many failures, the despicable thing he'd become. He looked down. Far below, molten rock glowed dimly. Two more steps, and it would all be over. He jumped.

The wind was shaking his shoulder, and he could hear Maglor screaming his name. Wait a minute, that's not Maglor, that's Caranthir. What's he doing here? Maedhros jerked awake, flinching and raising his arm to protect his head, as he opened his eyes. What the… treelight?

"Oh good, you're awake," said Carnistir's shade – no, no, it was live Carnistir. His brother was still alive, as witnessed by his firm grip on Maedhros' shoulder.

"Thanks for waking me," said Maedhros, as his heart rate began to slow back down. "Nightmare."

"That was one hell of a nightmare." said Carnistir.

"Yes," said Maedhros.

His brother looked at him oddly, but shrugged and left it at that.


	3. Those Stubborn Finweans

The next morning, Maedhros was feeling much better. Ambarto was asleep, his head pillowed on the back of his chair. Maedhros smiled at the sight as he got out of bed to use the toilet and have a wash. Moving quietly about his morning tasks, he caught sight of his own face in the mirror.

Good grief he looked young without the scars and pain lines. His eyes, on the other hand, didn't. He wondered how long it would be before someone realized that there was more than a concussion different about him. That someone would probably be Makalaure: he was too perceptive for his own good when he bothered to pay attention.

Maedhros had better think of an explanation fast: for that, the nightmares, and most of all the knowledge of a future that hopefully wouldn't happen quite the same way this time. How long until the festival? Was it today, tomorrow? He couldn't remember, but either way he had precious little time before events would spiral beyond anyone's control. He must convince the others to send word to the Valar, and to leave Formenos and scatter, and he had to have a reason for him to know what he did.

The obvious explanation was visions of the future, but he'd never had those. Finrod yes, Galadriel yes, Feanaro yes, even Fingon and little Elrond on occasion, but he'd never had more than blurred dreams and the odd hunch.

A really intense vision cascade that caused him to fall down and hit his head was still probably the best explanation. Maedhros snorted. Having over 500 years of your life shoved into your head at once counted as really intense if anything ever did.

Ambarto stirred, his thumb moving closer to his mouth. Maedhros smiled. His brother really did look like a child right now. Maedhros was tempted to sneak down the hall and retrieve Ambarto's old stuffed horse to tuck in with him. The boy would be mortified. Maedhros froze. This brother would be dead in a matter of months unless he managed to change things. Not if I can help it. The fire will not have this youngest and most innocent of my brothers.

He swallowed, and left his brother to sleep. He headed down the stairs towards the enticing smell of breakfast. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd arrived in this time.

"Hello Nelyo," said Finwe as Maedhros entered the room. "You're looking much better than you did yesterday."

"I'm feeling much better, grandfather." said Maedhros. Then he felt the blood drain from his face. Finwe would die tonight, his head caved in by Morgoth's mace.

"On second thought, you don't look that much better. Sit down before you fall down," said Finwe, taking Maedhros' arm and pushing him into a chair. "What is the matter?"

"I… can we maybe keep our festival away from Formenos?" asked Maedhros.

"Why?" asked Finwe.

Maedhros took all his courage and plunged in. "Because I saw Melkor and a monstrous spider attack Formenos tonight. When I fell and hit my head. I'm fairly sure it was a vision."

Finwe's eyebrows rose. "That's sudden. Have you ever had visions before?"

"Not clear ones," said Maedhros. "But I seem to have gotten hit with an entire cascade yesterday."

"No," said Finwe. "That's not the way the Sight develops. It happens slowly, starting with simple hunches, moving into fuzzy dream-visions, and then clear ones. Vision cascades are very rare, and they only happen to powerful Seers who've been having clear visions for centuries. I ought to know. Indis, Earwen, and your father and I have visions, and none of us has ever had that happen."

"Artanis has."

"Has she? But you prove my point. She's been having clear visions since she was a child."

Then I guess Elrond was being abnormal again, that time Maglor found him sitting on the floor, surrounded by spilled flour, and babbling about a winged ship fighting flying dragons. Wonderful. "It is, nevertheless, what happened. Could something have been blocking them?" said Maedhros.

"I doubt it, child. Still…" Finwe frowned, looking away towards the north. "I also have a bad feeling about tonight." He nodded suddenly, turning back to look at Maedhros. "I'll make sure no one leaves Formenos, and that the walls are guarded."

"No!" cried Maedhros. "They're coming here, and the walls won't be able to stop them! We have to get away from here, and scatter so Melkor can't find you. You and the silmarils are his target, but he thinks you're here, so this is where he's going to go. If you aren't here, and he's got a hundred different elf-trails to follow, he won't find you. We can hide the silmarils in three different places. That way, even if he finds one, he won't get all of them."

"I'm no coward, to run and hide in the woods when we've got good thick walls and strong arms to stop him. And what will Feanaro say when he finds out we've let Melkor wreck his fortress, and steal most of his creations? For that matter, do you have the key to the treasure chamber?

"No," said Maedhros in dawning horror. "You don't either?"

Finwe nodded.

"What about Curufinwe?" demanded Maedhros.

"I think my son took it with him."

"Namo's bloody Dooms." snarled Maedhros, his hands absently curling into fists. He hadn't even taken any Oath and STILL the silmarils were messing up his options!

Finwe gawked at him. "There's no need for sacrilege. What if he takes offense?"

Maedhros took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. "Sorry Grandfather, Lord Namo." said Maedhros. Though really, if anyone had reason to know Namo's expletively-unmentionable Dooms inside and out, it was him. "I'll speak to Curufinwe, and see if he can get into the treasure chamber."

"We will stay here." said Finwe. "We must send the Valar for help, though. Tyelkormo's pigeons can take the message."

"They can't fly high enough to reach Manwe on Taniquetil, but they might reach some of the revellers on the slopes," said Maedhros. "That's a good idea, and we'll do it, but we need to assume it will not get to Manwe in time. We still need to leave this place." Maedhros suddenly realized they'd attracted quite the audience. "Curvo, can you get into Father's treasure chamber?"

"I don't have the key"- Curvo began, but Finwe spoke over him.

"Maitimo, I appreciate your concern," Finwe gave his eldest grandson a stern look. "But I am in charge here, and you have a head injury. That means you are going to eat your breakfast and go rest while I deal with this." Maedhros blinked at him in surprise. It had been a long time indeed since he'd deferred to anyone else, and he'd clean forgotten he wasn't in charge. The trouble was, Finwe's plan was likely to get them all killed.

"Melkor is going to break the gates and kill you," said Maedhros.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, child," said Finwe. "Now eat."

"When the treelight goes dark at mingling tonight, remember what I have said," said Maedhros.

"Eat and be silent, or must I spoon-feed you like a babe in arms?" said Finwe, putting two slices of bread on his plate, and glaring at his grandson.

Maedhros glowered, but bent his head and picked out some butter and jam to put on it. Finwe watched until he took the first bite.

Finwe turned to the others: "Tyelkormo, how many pigeons do you have that are able to reach the slopes of Taniquetil?"

"Two, but I can send a couple more that might be able to find it if I explain very, very, clearly, and tell them to look for Nolofinwe's banner."

"Send all four of them. The message is for Manwe: we have had a vision of Melkor attacking Formenos during the festival. We will defend ourselves if attacked, but could use help, and this offers an opportunity for them to trap Melkor." Finwe gestured to the door. "Now go." Tyelkormo went.

Finwe turned to the others. "The rest of you, to breakfast. We'll organize the defense afterwards."

The rest of the family sat down and began to eat, most of them shooting sidelong glances at Finwe and Maedhros from time to time.

Maedhros picked at his breakfast, finding himself now feeling queasy and not very hungry. He also had a pounding headache again. At least he'd managed to get a message sent off, if nothing else. But with the Darkness on the way, he wondered if the birds would find Taniquetil at all. He might yet convince the others to abandon the fort and scatter once the treelight went out.

Was there any other way to protect his family, and their people here? Traps to stop Morgoth and Ungoliant… he'd never actually seen the spider, but the tracks she'd left suggested she could probably reach the top of the curtain wall from the ground. The gate had probably been a tight squeeze for her to get through. What if they barricaded it with everything they could find, not just the iron bars? Arrgh, his head felt like it had an iron bar wrapped round it that was being slowly tightened.

Wouldn't the spider just climb over the wall, taking Melkor with her – assuming the Vala didn't just abandon physical form or shift it temporarily to something that could fly? How tall was the curtain wall? And providing too thorough a barricade would trap the defenders inside with Melkor and Ungoliant when Melkor and Ungoliant did get inside.

Pitfall trap… it would take too long to dig one big enough for Ungoliant, although if Melkor trod in one it could give him a bad day. It would likely make him angry and fail to keep him out. There wasn't a handy mountain slope right beneath the castle the way there was at Himring for a deadfall trap, and a paved road did not lend itself to hidden stakes or caltrops. He was pretty certain Curufinwe hadn't invented the latter yet, either.

What about using the buildings next to the road and the curtain wall itself over the gate as improvised cliffs to drop objects off of? Not just a few rocks, but maybe a large hammock filled with rocks that could be dropped at the swing of a sword in the dark? They would have to set that up now, and he wasn't really in a fit state to do it. He needed Curufinwe and Tyelkormo, which meant he had to catch Curufinwe just as he was leaving the room.

"What is it?" asked Curufinwe irritably. "I'm busy."

"How would you and Tyelko like to build a trap over the gate for Moringotto and his giant spider friend?"

Curufinwe hesitated. "Grandfather's given me a raft of things to organize already," he said, before his curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of trap did you have in mind?"

"It is much like an altered deadfall trap, using a heavy canvas and rope sling to hold rocks, bricks, and any other heavy objects we have available," said Maedhros. "A single swing of a sword will bring the whole thing down on their heads, and should do more damage than dropping individual rocks." And be more likely to actually happen under the effects of the Unlight.

Curufinwe rubbed his mouth, frowning. "It is an interesting idea, certainly. And a nasty one." He gave his brother a disturbed glance, then smirked. "Tell me more." He commanded.

Maedhros obliged, his mouth twitching. Then he obeyed his grandfather and went to rest. But he was going to do so out in the treelight in the gardens, and not in his bedroom. No sense in forgoing the last treelight the world would ever see outside a silmaril.

Makalaure gave him an odd look as he settled his pillow and cloak more comfortably on the grass. "Tyelko's normally the one who wants to live outdoors. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?"

"I like it here," said Maedhros, and closed his eyes. The treelight might be precious and about to be lost forever, but it wasn't helping his headache any.

Makalaure leaned back against the tree as he fletched arrows. He wasn't sure how much use they'd be against a Vala, if Maitimo was right. Scattering in all directions might well be a better option than trying to fight, at least when it came to keeping them all alive. But they could hardly leave the silmarils unguarded. Father would never forgive them if Melkor stole his greatest creations on their watch, and they didn't even try to defend them. And the Valar would come. They wouldn't have to hold out long.

If Maitimo was right. His brother had been decidedly strange ever since he'd woken from his mishap the previous day. Carnistir said he'd been having nightmares last night. Perhaps this was all this was, and nothing at all would happen tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Quenya Names
> 
> Canafinwe Makalaure = Maglor
> 
> Morifinwe Carnistir = Caranthir
> 
> Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol = Maedhros
> 
> Turkafinwe Tyelkormo = Celegorm
> 
> Curufinwe Feanaro = Feanor
> 
> Curufinwe Atarinke = Curufin
> 
> Pityafinwe Ambarto/Umbarto = Amrod
> 
> Telufinwe Ambarussa = Amras
> 
> Tyelpinquar = Celebrimbor
> 
> Artanis Nerwen = Galadriel


	4. The Darkening of Valinor

That afternoon, Maedhros was back in his room, checking over what he could make ready for tonight. The gate trap was done, if not as large as he had hoped for. He'd packed a bag with provisions and a first aid kit for if they ran, and his sword and armor were ready for use. He had been informed that if there was fighting to be done, he wouldn't be doing any of it. Ha! He'd like to see Finwe try and stop him. There was nothing left to do but wait. At least his brothers no longer felt the need to watch over him every second. He took a nap.

Maedhros lingered by the window after waking up, watching the sky, for a few minutes, then sighed and went to get ready. He girded on his gambeson and the rest of his armor, as well as his sword, little help though they were likely to be. He wasn't Fingolfin, to try and kill Morgoth – especially not when Morgoth was accompanied by a treelight-swollen Ungoliant. He wasn't suicidal… well, not today, at least.

The armor felt a little odd, and yet entirely familiar. His mind hadn't worn this armor since he'd been captured by Morgoth, while his body had probably practiced sparring in it earlier that week. He also realized he'd belted his sword on the right side of his body, ready to be drawn with his left. What would his reflexes be like right now?

He drew the sword, and went through a pattern of simple moves in each hand. Both were adequate, but right was just a little better. He then did the same with the most useful moves he'd picked up in Beleriand. His left was much better than his right. It would be bad to use one of favorite moves and completely mess it up. Left it was then, so… oh. His shield straps were set for the shield to be used on his left arm. He spent a few minutes fixing that. He looked outside. It was now near to mingling. Maedhros settled his bag on his back, and took his shield in his right hand as he went downstairs.

He came down the stairs, clattering slightly. Tyelkormo greeted him at the bottom, also fully dressed in armor. "I thought you weren't to be fighting," said Tyelkormo.

"Oh, I won't unless I'm needed," said Maedhros. "But I don't fancy being unarmed and unarmored right now. Could you help me with the last few straps?"

"You get to explain the armor to Grandfather," said Tyelkormo. "I have a couple of things that need tying, too." They quickly fixed the last fastenings.

"Do you know where Grandfather is?" Maedhros asked.

"I think he is outside," said Tyelkormo.

"Thanks," said Maedhros as he snagged a bread roll on his way out the door. Having two hands again was wonderful.

He found Finwe in the courtyard, heading for the stairs to the top of the curtain wall. "Come up to the top of the wall with me," Finwe said. "What was it you were saying this morning about about darkness falling?"

They went up on the castle walls, and stood looking out over the town and the countryside beyond. All was fair and peaceful. The birds were singing, and crickets were chirping, although the treefrogs hadn't started up yet. A sweet-scented breeze blew from the south.

"First Laurelin will fail, then Telperien," said Maedhros. "It should become blindingly obvious soon. Within half an hour, the stars will be visible."

"We shall wait, and see if your vision be true," said Finwe. "Curufinwe tells me that the thing over the gate was your idea. What made you think of it?" He frowned. "Why have you switched your sword and shield arms? Your first real fight is not a good time to be practicing with your off-hand. Change it back."

Maedhros hesitated. "I've done some practice you haven't seen with my left. It is now a bit better than my right."

Finwe blinked, then shrugged. "I won't order you to change, then. Just remember that the lives of your brothers may depend on you if things go wrong." He looked south.

So did Maedhros. Was Laurelin dimming faster than normal? It was difficult to tell.

They waited, and waited. It got darker, and the treefrogs began to sing. They waited. It became darker still, and they could hear worried murmurs as others began to notice something odd. Finally, Finwe turned to Maedhros. "It seems you are right."

"Melkor won't be alone. We can't fight them-" Maedhros began.

"Get everyone inside the curtain wall," Finwe called to Makalaure at the gate.

Maedhros' hands clenched into fists as he fought the desire to shake Finwe until his armor rattled. Damn his family's bull-headedness!

Makalaure nodded, and called out loud and clear: "Everyone inside the gates. Bring your arms and armor if you have them."

"Curufinwe, get the torches lit," called Finwe. The first torch flared alight.

"What's happening?" demanded one of the guards.

"There is something wrong with the Trees. Get everyone inside," said Finwe.

Very soon, the sky was pitch-black, with a sprinkling of stars. Torches lit the courtyard, illuminating worried faces turned to Finwe.

"Friends, kinsmen, my people, I have reason to believe that there may be an attack on the settlement by Melkor tonight," said Finwe, without preamble. "We are prepared, and have already informed the Valar. They will be on their way soon, but we may have to hold out for a little while."

Murmurs of alarm sprang up, then died away as Finwe held up his hand. "We are prepared. This is not Cuvienen: we have strong walls to defend us, flights of arrows, and swords and armor of steel. We will hold firm, and if Melkor tries to harm us, he's going to get a nasty surprise."

Some people cheered, notably Tyelkormo and Curufinwe.

Maedhros ground his teeth. A fat lot of use Finwe's sword had proven last time, and Maedhros had little faith their trap would do more than annoy Morgoth. All Maedhros had managed to do so far was make things even worse! Why had Eru sent him back, if everything he touched was forever doomed to turn to dust?

"I want the women, excepting those of the militia, and the children, to take shelter in the caves at the back. Third company will guard them. Melkor's most likely target is the silmarils in the treasure chamber. First company, man the keep. Second company, to the curtain wall. Captain Curelda, I want you over the gate, ready to drop rocks on Melkor's head."

Finwe left Maedhros on the wall, keeping watch for Morgoth's arrival. He seemed disinclined to listen to anything his grandson said with regards to Morgoth or Ungoliant. So Maedhros grew silent, waiting for the Unlight to arrive, and wishing he dared hope that someone had found one of Tyelko's birds and brought the message to Manwe in time.


	5. On the Slopes of Taniquetil

Meanwhile, on the slopes of Taniquetil, Findekano stood beneath the stars. He watched the strange impenetrable gloom that shrouded the lands below, and shivered. He wrapped his thin festival cloak more tightly around him against the cool breeze Manwe had called up to blow the gloom away.

He didn't understand Melkor at all. Why anybody would destroy something as beautiful as the Two Trees… it made no sense. But then trying to destroy the new-made elves didn't make much sense to him, either. At least his father and Feanaro had finally made their peace, though he'd been disappointed not to see Russandol. It had been far too long since he'd seen his cousin.

For that matter, where had the Finarfinions gotten to now? Findekano looked around to find them, and almost tripped over a pigeon. It fluttered about a foot away, then settled again, as if too exhausted to go further. Was that a message canister attached to its leg?

Findekano gently coaxed the bird onto his hand, and took out the message. He wished he had some water to give it. Then the contents of the letter drove all thoughts of the bird out of his mind.

"Manwe, Eonwe, Illmare, Varda… any Vala listening! Or maia!" he yelled. "Urgent message, now!" Around him, heads turned, but no Vala or maia appeared. His heart sank. They'd probably all gone to see to the Trees. He yelled again, then turned to go down and make for the Ezellohar himself. He'd get his horse and ride there himself if he had to.

That was when an elf-man he didn't recognize tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" said Findekano irritably.

"I am Olorin, a maia." Paying more attention, Findekano recognized the distinctive scent of maia on him. Well thank the Valar for that. "You said you have a message for Lord Manwe?" Olorin prompted.

Findekano handed it over. "Melkor is going to attack Formenos," he said. "He's probably doing so right now. I know your Lord is displeased with Feanaro, but please don't take it out on his family and followers."

"We would never do that," said the Maia, looking offended. "I must leave to tell Manwe at once."

"Thank you," called Findekano as the maia vanished into the crowd. He'd get the message to Manwe far sooner than Findekano could. Though there was one other he probably ought to tell… his uncle. Lovely.

Feanaro would probably do something foolishly dangerous. Maybe he'd better find Uncle Arafinwe first, and they'd both go tell him. He could tell his own father afterward, since he was less likely than uncle Feanaro to do something disastrous.

Finding Arafinwe proved easier said than done, but some indeterminate time later he'd found Arafinwe, passed the pigeon to Earwen to look after, and found Feanaro. As Findekano had feared, his half-uncle did NOT take it well.

"Melkor attacks Formenos? How dare he!" Feanaro's eyes blazed, and he raised his voice to carry far across the mountainside. "People of the Noldor," he cried, "attend me now!" Heads turned towards him across the darkened mountainside. "Melkor attacks Formenos! Your King and your kin are in danger. I go now to aid them. Who is with me?"

"I am!" yelled Findekano.

Arafinwe grabbed Feanaro's sleeve, and spoke urgently to his half-brother. "We are all with you, but we need weapons if we're to fight, and it's going to take time to get there. We'll need provisions, water, and it will all be over by the time we get there. The Valar are likely already on their way. We might do better to send healers than warriors."

"Go organize healers and supplies, then," said Feanaro, pulling his arm from Arafinwe's grasp. "I'm getting warriors together right now. I take it you're coming with me, nephew?"

"I am," said Findekano, uncomfortably aware that the most warlike implement on his person was a belt knife. "Where can we get weapons?"

"In Tirion."

"But you're banned from Tirion!" said Arafinwe.

"I don't care," said Feanaro.

"I doubt the Valar intended the ban for a time like right now," said Findekano.

"You stay on the outskirts, brother, while the rest of us go in to get our weapons. There's no sense in you getting in trouble when we can collect them more easily," said Nolofinwe, who'd just come up. "Let's get going. We can make plans on the way."

Feanaro looked at his brother for an instant with something that might have been gratitude. "Just hurry," he said. "I already have my sword with my horse, and I fear Melkor will have been sieging them long by the time we get there."

"We will hurry," said Nolofinwe. "He's our father too."

And so the Noldor began to stream down the mountainside towards Tirion, and onwards, towards Formenos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ripple effects have begun.


	6. Courage in the Dark

Maedhros felt a sense of recognition in the darkness. He remembered that feeling. He stared intently into the south. He couldn't see anything in that direction. Even the stars were veiled. "They come!" he cried. "They're coming from the south."

Finwe ran up the steps to stand beside him. "I can't see anything," Finwe said. "I don't think it was so dark even at Cuvienen."

"They're shrouded in darkness. It clouds the mind – most everyone will go mad with terror," said Maedhros dully, fighting fear. "It's going to get a lot worse. For Eru's sake, run, when they come through the gates. To fight Melkor alone is death."

"And you?" said Finwe.

"I will stay by the gate, and make sure that the trap gets pulled when they arrive. But I fear I may panic and pass out like everyone else," said Maedhros. "I did last time."

Finwe gave him an odd look, then turned back to look southwards. "I want more light out here immediately," said Finwe. "Curufinwe! We need blue lanterns on the walls."

"Coming, Sire," came Curufinwe's voice. A couple of minutes later, the blue lanterns were on the walls and uncovered.

But they seemed dim and fitful compared to their usual brilliance, and threw no light beyond the wall. Morgoth and Ungoliant must be getting near now. "I'm going to stand over the gate now," said Maedhros, his voice shaking slightly.

"I will go to the courtyard and talk some courage into people," said Finwe. "It's a foul darkness, but I refuse to cower from it like a child." Maedhros could hear Finwe's voice wobbling a little as he hurried down the steps, his little blue light bobbing a few times before it disappeared.

Within the walls, he could hear the sound of several people sobbing in fear.

Taking his pathetic little light, Maedhros walked to stand over the gate, where the trap hung ready for the swing of sword through rope that would send rocks tumbling down upon the enemy. Behind the parapet, more rocks had been piled ready.

When he reached the gate, he found the guards were shivering like frightened children, and failing to watch anything at all. And where was Captain Curelda? "Get up!" Maedhros demanded. "I will be with you, and our job is vital. Be ready to drop rocks outside the doors when the lights go out."

They nodded, standing more erect, even if their faces were still pale with fear. "When the lights go out?" one asked.

Then the torches went out, and the lanternlight dimmed near invisibility, illuminating nothing. People were screaming – the horses outside, and people inside, and he could hear running feet and Finwe yelling at the guards to stand fast. "Start dropping rocks," demanded Maedhros in a choked voice, as he shook the guard next to him, then reached down to grope for a rock himself. The trap needed to wait until he was certain the enemy was within reach. They would only have one chance.

Rock up, out, drop it over the parapet… each movement seemed leaden and hopeless in the grip of the Unlight. He did it again anyway, and again. He could hear the sound of orcs laughing, and chains clinking. Not real, not here, his mind chanted. Pick up the rock, pick it up. His right wrist flared with agony, and he dropped the rock at his own feet, falling to his knees. Remembering where he was, he picked himself up, and picked up the rock again. He picked it up, and dropped it over the edge. A thunking sound and a venomous hiss told him he'd probably hit Ungoliant.

He grinned madly, feeling fire return to his heart. He stood, groping for the rope with one hand while he drew his sword with the other. Then he brought the sword down on the thick rope.

Rocks thundered down on the space in front of the gate.

"More rocks, drop more rocks!" he yelled to the guards. He'd no idea if they heard him, but he could hear the spider and Morgoth spitting what sounded like Valarin curse words so foul they would shame Sauron, as well as the sounds of the enemy hauling themselves out of the rubble. Not seriously hurt, then. Damn.

He dropped another rock. Something whistled through the air over his head. His senses reeled, and he fell to his knees again. Orcs, balrogs, werewolves howling in the deep… he bit his lip hard, but adding pain to evil memories wasn't much help.

A bit to his left, a hollow boom announced Morgoth was attacking the door. Better do something about that. He crawled along the top of the wall, colliding with the prone and motionless form of one of the guardsmen. Maedhros crawled over the guard. Another boom, another strike.

He could vaguely hear screaming, but it felt like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Finally, another boom from right underneath him. He found a rock, hauling himself up, but dropped it uselessly at his feet. He tried again, but lost his footing and landed on his face, hearing the doors crack below him. His head stabbed pain at him, and he lay gasping on top of the walkway.

Finwe, a little voice reminded him. You must get to Finwe. Who's that? He couldn't quite remember.

Another boom, and the world shook violently. Sauron laughed at him as he screamed. His left hand was burning, burning… Maedhros' body flamed with agony, and he passed out.  
___________

He came to with someone shaking him. He thrashed in their grasp, his eyes opening as he cried out. They released him. He looked around wildly, a dagger in one hand. Stars, the top of a rather unimpressive curtain wall, and the face of Finwe's guard Amandil.

"It's only me, Prince Nelyafinwe," said Amandil, backing away from him. "The King… Finwe…" he swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," said Maedhros, lowering the dagger as he sat up properly. "What happened to Finwe?"

The guard gestured into the courtyard. Maedhros staggered to his feet, and to the inner side of the wall, but he already had a good idea of what he'd see. Finwe lay on the ground, his skull smashed, in a puddle of his own blood.

Carnistir and someone else knelt by his side. The courtyard was nearly deserted, a few people curled in fetal position, or sprawled senseless on the ground. A few were bloody, or lay in positions that spoke of broken bones. Where was Tyelkormo? He was good at first aid. Having had only one hand in Beleriand, Maedhros had never been able to do much along those lines.

Carniel was most likely in the caverns. Maedhros looked back at the guard. "Do you know first aid?" he asked.

"Not well," Amandil said.

"Go to the caverns and tell the women and children that the danger is past, but we need healers," Maedhros told him.

They clattered down the stairs. Maedhros went to Carnistir. "Grandfather," croaked Carnistir, gesturing at Finwe's still form.

"Who's seeing to the wounded?" asked Maedhros.

Carnistir stared at him vacantly.

"Where's Tyelkormo?" demanded Maedhros.

"I don't know," said Carnistir. "What happened to your face?"

Maedhros put a hand up to his mouth. His lower lip was badly swollen, and there was half-dried blood all down his chin. Apparently he'd bitten his lip far harder than he'd realized. "Never mind that. But there are others badly hurt."

"I can help with that," said the guardsman kneeling next to them. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for the King."

Maedhros nodded. He suddenly realized he was still wearing his pack, which contained a first aid kit. He pulled off the pack and rummaged in it, pulling the kit out. "Here. I'm not very skilled, but there should be real healers coming from the caverns soon. Let's go and do what we can."

They started going to the huddled or sprawled figures. Maedhros was relieved to find that most of them were merely still overcome by the Unlight. Others, though…people had run into walls, or fallen over and trodden on each other. One unlucky fellow looked like he might have been both trampled and sat on by Ungoliant. Maedhros wasn't quite sure who he had been. At least, dying this way, he would not attract Namo's special anger by kinslaying.

Maedhros kept having to stop to give directions as more people collected themselves, realized Finwe was dead, and came to him as the one now legally in charge of this fiasco. A couple of real healers soon arrived, though Carniel herself remained in the caves to deal with injuries sustained by panicked people there. The healers relieved Maedhros of trying to treat the wounded, at least.

Time to go investigate what had happened to the silmarils. On his way there, he ran into Curufinwe. "They're gone," said Curufinwe. "They're gone. Everything is gone." His face was streaked with tears. "Finwe trusted me to protect them and I…"

Maedhros embraced his little brother. "None of us functioned properly in that foul blackness, Curvo. At least we're still alive," he said. Then his heart sank. Did Curufinwe even know the worst? "Finwe is dead," he said.

"Oh no," said Curufinwe, releasing Maedhros. "What is father going to do when he finds out?"

"I fear for his mind," said Maedhros. "He will not be rational in his grief, and we may have to keep him from harming himself and others."

"How," Curvo swallowed. "How did grandfather die?"

"He tried to fight Melkor and that foul spider alone," said Maedhros.

"Why was he alone?" demanded Curvo. "Where were Tyelkormo and Huan? They were supposed to stay with him!"

"Finwe was alone because everyone else ran away or fainted at their posts," said Maedhros. "Tyelkormo has a bloody nose from running head-first into a wall. Huan has a hurt paw."

"Where were you?"

"Springing the trap and was dropping more rocks over the gate. I lost my footing and passed out when Moringotto broke the gate. I think we might have managed to hit the spider and Moringotto with some of the rocks first, though. They started cursing in Valarin."

"Well, that's better than I did." He grew silent, lip curling in disgust. "Moringotto," he said savagely. "It suits him."

Just when Maedhros thought he might be able to sit down for a minute, the sound of hooves, neighing and the winding of a mighty horn startled them both.

It was Orome, and some of his maiar. Too late.


	7. A Wild Ride by Starlight

Maedhros met Orome at the gate.

"Oh no. I am sorry for your loss," said Orome, on being informed of events. "We came as quick as we could, but that foul mirk…"

Maedhros nodded slightly, understanding only too well – though he hadn't thought anything could affect a Vala that way – or that he'd ever see a Vala wearing that hangdog expression. It reminded him of Huan. Perhaps he'd overestimated their indifference and underestimated their incompetence at dealing with Moringotto last time around.

"Finwe will be safe in Namo's hands by now, but we need to get the Silmarils back so that life can be restored to the Trees. The trail is clear, and we will follow it. I shall leave a couple of my people to protect you in case he comes back."

"Do you have any skilled healers?" Maedhros asked. "We have injured among us."

"Not dedicated healers: that would be Este's following. But I shall leave Romestamo with you. He has some skill, and will give you what help he can."

With that, the Vala and his following rode off north into the dark, on the trail of their adversary. While Maedhros wished them all success, he had little hope that they would succeed in their hunt.

After a few minutes of bickering, the brothers decided that they really ought to inform their father that Finwe was dead and he was now King of the Noldor. The maia staying here had some very special horses indeed… which they agreed to lend to Feanaro's sons at Tyelkormo's entreaty.

A little under an hour later Maedhros, Curufinwe, and Tyelkormo set out to tell their father the news. They left Makalaure organizing things back in Formenos. Of the three of them, Tyelkormo was the only one who had ridden one of Orome's horses before. They weren't the same as typical horses available to elves, so Maedhros listened carefully as his brother told them what to expect.

"They are many times as fast as ordinary horses, and have a very smooth gait. They can see well by starlight. They can run without tiring for three days and will not founder. They are also far smarter than our horses, and have minds of their own. You'll need a firm mind and a firm hand if their mind disagrees with yours, or you'll wind up where and doing what they decide. If you're unlucky, that's dangling from a treebranch or sitting in the bottom of a ditch. Fortunately their masters have told them that they are to bear us according to our wishes." One of the horses snorted. "And yes, they understand whatever you say." The horse bumped Tyelkormo with her nose. Tyelkormo stroked it and nickered at her. She flicked her ears at him.

"So introduce yourself to your horse, and let's get going,"

They led the horses arounds the wreckage in front of the destroyed gates. Just outside, Tyelkormo leaned down and stopped his horse to examine a fair-sized boulder. Maedhros looked more closely. It was stained with ichor.

"Looks like you hit the spider-thing," said Tyelkormo.

"So you actually hurt the spider!" said Curufinwe, looking at his eldest brother with raised eyebrows.

"That was you?" said Tyelkormo. "Well done, brother! At least someone managed to make a blow count."

They set off without further incident. The horses were fast indeed. It was hardly the first time that Maedhros had ridden somewhere at a gallop, but this was unlike any horse he had ever ridden. It was more like flying than ordinary riding. A fierce grin spread across his face.

"Amazing, aren't they?" said Celegorm with satisfaction.

"Do you two mind?" said Curufinwe irritably. "I'm trying to figure out how we break the news to father." His voice wasn't easy to hear over the wind of their passage.

"There isn't a good way to break news like this," said Maedhros, sobering. "We should probably try and get him alone. We'll also need to tell his half-siblings, but not at the same time, if at all possible."

"Why are you worrying about them?" asked Curufinwe.

"Political reality," said Maedhros. "Finwe is their father too, whether we like the fact or not, and they're going to care that he's dead. I doubt Nolofinwe's going to be pleased that our father is now the rightful King. The fact father's still exiled from Tirion, and Nolofinwe's acting as Regent, only adds to the mess. There's likely to be strife enough between them that I don't wish to add to it."

"You just miss Findekano," said Tyelkormo.

"As you miss Irisse, brother. We've all got friends who stayed in Tirion. This division in the Noldor is dangerous."

"Hang the Valar's exile of Father, and your precious political reality, Maitimo. We should go to Middle-earth and pay Moringotto back for what he's done to us," snarled Curufinwe.

"We'll need the rest of the Noldor as allies if we do that," snapped Maedhros. "Or is your mind still addled by his last attack? If we must fight Moringotto, I intend to win." He raised an arm to rub his head. It had begun to hurt more fiercely again – smooth gait or not, riding so fast was not helping his concussion. He should probably have sent Makalaure, but he'd clean forgotten about his injury during the press of events. And it was his place to tell his father, his duty. He'd just have to live with it.

They continued riding, the horses flying down the dirt road beneath the stars.

On they went, and on, and on, beneath stars and scudding cloud, on the track through forest and fen, meadow and field. Maedhros' vision narrowed to the horse's neck in front of him, then to darkness, as he slid into an odd state, not truly awake or truly asleep. Finally, his horse neighed loudly and slowed suddenly. Maedhros slid forward onto the horses' neck and canted sideways, grabbing the horse's neck and mane frantically, his head stabbing at him. The horse snorted and stamped as Maedhros struggled right himself.

Tyelko's strong hands grabbed him, and rebalanced him on the horse's back before he could fall off.

"You can't go to sleep, you fool," said Tyelkormo. "Rocco says you're about to fall and break your neck."

"My head," slurred Maedhros. "It hurts. I can't see straight."

"Damn. It's that concussion," said Curufinwe's voice. "He should have stayed behind. Stubborn fool."

"Now what are we going to do?" asked Tyelko. "We can't leave him sitting in the middle of the road in the dark."

Maedhros winced, because Tyelko was right. "Sorry," he said, forcing his eyes open.

"Do you have any limpe?" Curufinwe asked.

"I left it with the healers helping the wounded." said Tyelko.

"Get up behind him and keep him steady in the saddle. You can trade off horses if the horse gets tired."

"You'll help me if it comes to that," said Tyelkormo. "Maitimo's no lightweight."

Then a warm body settled into the saddle behind Maedhros, and strong arms wrapped itself around him to keep him upright. "Thank you," said Maedhros quietly. He closed his eyes, and trusted his brother to keep him safe as they set off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I figure the horses of Orome must have been pretty special. A lot like Shadowfax, only more so. Perhaps like horse versions of Huan.
> 
> As for the reappearance of Maedhros' concussion, well, they're funny things, and I'm sure that picking fights with Ungoliant, followed by riding implausibly fast horses for many hours, is not recommended by doctors.


	8. Breaking the News

To Findekano, worried as he was about what they'd find when they got to Formenos, it felt like the others were taking forever to get the weapons and supplies. Judging by Feanaro's taut face and clipped words, he felt likewise. It was highly nerve-racking sitting a horse beside him, trying to keep him from riding off prematurely, while the others went into Tirion. Feanaro kept drumming his fingers on things, until his horse started shying at waving grass-stalks.

Finally they were off. Findekano gave a sigh of relief as they left Tirion behind, moving to ride next to his father. Nolofinwe did not speak, only handed Findekano a pack of supplies and his sword. Then he turned to stare ahead into the dark.

They soon settled into the rhythm of the ride: canter, walk, canter. For all their urgency, a journey of this distance could not be taken at a gallop. Findekano hoped the Valar would get there in a more timely fashion, because Arafinwe was likely right: they were not going to get there in time to make any difference.

An unknown time later, Feanaro jerked in his saddle, leaning forwards and staring intently into the night. Findekano did likewise, but he could see nothing at first. Then he made out riders coming towards them at an impossibly fast pace. Maiar probably. They should have news of Formenos. There were three of them. Two of the three seemed to be sharing a horse, and the front figure was slumped as if completely exhausted or injured. Findekano shared a glance with Turukano. This wasn't good.

Feanaro picked up the pace to a gallop, and the others followed. It was then that Findekano recognized Tyelkormo's silver hair. And the slumped figure looked like Maitimo.

As they came nearer, Maitimo pulled himself more upright. At least that meant he couldn't be too terribly hurt. Finally, the groups met. "My sons, what news of Formenos? My father, is he…" said Feanaro, his voice trailing off.

Just like Feanaro not to ask about his children, thought Findekano, never mind that that one of them is obviously hurt – no, make that two, there's bloody smears and a black eye on Tyelko. And why were they on Orome's horses? But all thoughts of that fled at the expression on his cousin's faces.

"No!" cried Feanaro. "He can't be dead. He can't!" Feanaro swayed on his horse.

Curufinwe the younger vaulted off his own horse, and ran to his side. "I am so sorry, Father," he said, voice cracking. "That – that Moringotto killed him."

Feanaro fainted into Curufinwe's arms, and Tyelkormo jumped down from his horse to help get him off the horse safely. Maitimo stayed where he was, clutching the horn of the saddle with white-knuckled hands.

Findekano looked to his own father. He sat still as a statue astride his horse. "Father?" Findekano asked, getting down from his own horse, and moving to his father's side. Nolofinwe didn't answer, just bowed his head so his face was hidden in the shadow of his hair.

Irisse pulled her horse up to Maitimo. "What happened?" she demanded. "Are your brothers all right?"

Maitimo visibly pulled himself together, turning to look at them. "All of us live, and none are badly hurt," he said in a toneless voice. "Five of our people are dead, mostly by falls from the walls or trampling."

"Trampling?" Nolofinwe asked, his head coming up and frowning.

"Where were the Valar?" demanded Findekano. "I gave your message to the Maia Olorin, and he said he was going to get them!" Findekano swallowed. "Did they not come?"

"Nay, Orome came," said Tyelkormo. "But too late. Melkor had slain Finwe, and stolen all our treasures. The Silmarils are taken."

Feanaro raised his head, a wild flame in his eyes. "Melkor what?" he said quietly.

"He stole the Silmarils."

Feanaro stood, shaking off his son's hands. "Curse him!" he shrieked. "That vile, monstrous fiend of a Vala has slain my father and taken the Silmarils. Curse the day that Manwe summoned me to that vapid excuse for a festival."

Feanaro's horse backed away from him, ears laid back. So did his elven listeners, save Atarinke alone.

"And curse the day that Manwe let that conniving fraud of a Vala out of Mandos! And curse Orome's incompetence." His face worked, and he whirled to flee into the night. Atarinke tackled him to the ground as he took the first step. Feanaro snarled and thrashed like a wounded animal. Findekano thought he saw father bite son, though he couldn't be sure.

"Father, no, calm down. Don't leave us, please," pleaded Atarinke as Feanaro tried to shake him off. "Tyelko help me, he's not rational right now!"

Tyelkormo assisted by grabbing Feanaro's arms and twisting them behind him. Feanaro snarled at them, spitting vile insults in his fury.

"They need space. Move back." said Maitimo. His horse, and the two now-riderless ones, moved to stand in between Feanaro and the Fingolfinions, blocking their view. A puzzled expression appeared on Maitimo's face. "How come you here on the north road, armed for war?" he asked.

"We heard Formenos was under attack, so we were coming to help. But there was no time, and we are too late," said Findekano. "Do you need healers? Arafinwe was organizing them, and they should be just behind us."

Maitimo hesitated, swaying a little. "Orome left one of his maiar with us to help, and we've some healers already there. But we accept your aid with thanks."

"You're hurt. What happened?" asked Findekano, taking a step towards his friend.

"I hit my head when I had a vision cascade yesterday." He frowned. "What day is it?"

"It's evening the day after the Darkening," said Findarato. "You can use the stars to tell time. The Teleri do that in Alqualonde. You have visions?"

"Oh. I forgot." Maitimo blew at a strand of hair that had escaped his braid and was trying to get into his mouth. His chin was covered in dried blood, but he didn't seem to care. He didn't notice Findarato's question, either.

"I'm going to Formenos to bury Finwe." said Feanaro. His voice was ragged, but Tyelkormo and Curufinwe had let him up, and his face was drawn but resolute.

"Are you coming, Nolofinwe?" asked Feanaro.

Nolofinwe blinked, visibly torn. "I want to, but I am Regent and can hardly abandon those in my trust in Tirion in a time such as this."

Feanaro's face closed.

Findekano's eye fell on Maitimo. "Maitimo and I can stay, father," said Findekano. "The people trust me, and there's no way he's fit to ride so far. It isn't as if you'll be away for more than four weeks at the very most."

Councillor Valandil objected. "My lord, your son and your nephew are too inexperienced to rule in such a dark time."

Maitimo's mouth twitched as if he found this amusing, though Findekano had not the faintest idea why.

"They'll be fine," said Feanaro. "It isn't as if Melkor has any interest in attacking Tirion." Feanaro's lip curled in a sneer.

"He won't, will he?" asked Curufinwe. "Maitimo? Melkor and that spider-thing aren't going to attack Tirion, are they?"

"Oh no," said Maitimo. "They're headed north, with Orome chasing them."

"How can you be sure of that?" demanded Valandil. "Unless Melkor tells you what he's planning now?"

Maitimo's eyes flashed, and he drew himself up to his full height, looking down his nose at Valandil.

Valandil and his horse shied away.

Maitimo spoke: "It was Orome's maiar who loaned us these horses that got us here so swiftly, and Orome who told us he and Tulkas were going after Melkor. That spider leaves a trail an infant could follow, and my vision showed me them in the far North of Middle-earth."

"How would you recognise Middle-earth?" asked someone from behind Findekano.

"There were icebergs, and it wasn't Araman!" snapped Maitimo.

"And Nelyafinwe has seen Araman," interjected Feanaro. "You forget, Valandil, that unlike you who are content to remain placidly in Tirion, my family has travelled over all of Aman. Are you coming or not, Nolofinwe?"

"I will come," said Nolofinwe. "But I want you two to send a messenger if there is anything you cannot handle, is that understood?"

"Yes, father," said Findekano.

"Yes, uncle," said Maitimo.

"In order to rule the Noldor even for such a short time, you must take Oath," said Nolofinwe.

Maitimo froze visibly, his eyes widening, then he seemed to relax a little. "I'm going to need help getting down," he said.

Findekano and Irisse ended up helping him, since Maitimo's brothers were busy keeping an eye on their father. Maitimo leaned heavily on Findekano, as his legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. At least oaths were taken kneeling.

"I swear to rule the Noldor of Tirion in Feanaro and Nolofinwe's stead, until Nolofinwe or Feanaro returns, at which time I will give up my charge. I will guard and guide my people, returning that which is given, fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance. So say I, Findekano son of Nolofinwe."

Maitimo swore likewise.

"I hear you, and appoint you Findekano my son, and you Maitimo my brother's son, my regents in Tirion in my absence. Rule well and justly. I will return ere long." said Nolofinwe.


	9. A Darkened Tirion

That was when Arafinwe and the others turned up, and explanations had to be given again… but Feanaro lost patience.

"I am leaving," he said, stalking to the horse Maitimo had been riding. The horse sniffed Feanaro's hand, and laid his ears back. Feanaro glared at him. "You are going to bear me back to your master," he told the horse firmly. It sighed, and whuffed something that made Tyelkormo choke. Feanaro mounted, and rode away. With him went Tyelkormo, Curufinwe, Nolofinwe, and Irisse, along with a group of guards.

Arafinwe went pale at the news of his father's death. "I feared this ever since Findekano received that message." He wiped almost angrily at his eyes. "But you say that there were few other deaths?"

Arafinwe surprised them by deciding not to ride after the others, though he did send the healers on. "There is nothing I can do for my father now, and I think you two could use my support. There are a lot of frightened people back in Tirion, and they aren't going to be easy to handle." It suddenly struck Findekano, that really, it might have made more sense to have Arafinwe be Regent, and also that his feelings might be hurt by the appointment of his two nephews.

"If you are willing to stay, I would be grateful for your help," Findekano told him.

"What's wrong with Maitimo?" Findarato asked.

"A concussion, and exhaustion," said Findekano. "Turukano, I could really use some help getting him onto a horse."

With a good deal of effort, the three of them got Maitimo safely onto Findekano's horse. Findekano leapt lightly up behind him. Slowly, the group rode back to Tirion.

Maedhros tried to think past his splitting headache. He needed to think - things were already spiralling off in unexpected directions. None of this had happened last time! But it looked as if the breach in the family might be getting narrower instead of wider. All because of a single message that didn't even make it in time. Of course, that assumed that without Findekano and himself to play peacemakers, their fathers didn't kill each other…

The streets were dark, save for pools of light from torches or the odd Feanorian lantern. People yelled questions at them about what was happening. Findekano promised them they would tell them as soon as they got back to the palace. "Maitimo," said Findekano quietly, "You were there. You're going to have to tell them what happened. You haven't even told me exactly what happened."

Maedhros closed his eyes. "Understood," he said. "I can do it, if I can lean on you." One way or another, he always seemed to find himself leaning on Findekano. He hadn't been as good a friend as Findekano deserved last time. But maybe this time he could begin to repay his friend for all he'd done for him. There would be no Oath of Feanor between them now. Maedhros would make sure of that, if he failed at all else.

Once they reached the palace, Maedhros took the chance to wash the dried blood off his face and sit down for a few minutes while criers told people to assemble in the Great Square to hear the news from Formenos.

A healer came up, holding a flask. "I understand you have a head injury. What happened?"

"Fell and hit my head during a vision cascade two days ago," Maedhros said. "I'm not so bad, but the fight in the Unlight and the long ride was a bit much."

"I'll be the judge of that," said the healer. He asked a few more questions, and probed the bump on Maedhros' skull. "You have a hard head, fortunately. I want you to drink this, and rest once the speech is over." he said. "You need to ask for a healer before the symptoms get this bad next time. Leave any fighting, riding, or anything else that could cause you to hit your head to others for at least the next two weeks – if you reinjure your head you can end up with nasty complications."

"I will do my best to stay out of trouble," said Maedhros. The healer glowered at him, sighed, and handed Maedhros the flask. Maedhros drank, finding it was Limpe. This helped clear his mind – which was good, given he had to go out and speak to the people. Findekano stood beside him, keeping an eye on his cousin as well as needing to hear the information himself.

They stood on the palace balcony that opened onto the square. Maedhros looked out onto a small and scattered sea of faces, lit by torchlight and the light from the Mindon. Unwillingly, he remembered a much larger crowd, and his father's eyes gleaming with rage and grief past bearing. But that was not now, not yet.

"People of Tirion," Maedhros cried, "I bear terrible news. Our King, Finwe, is dead, slain by Melkor." Shouts of shock and horror greeted this, and the crowd grew quiet. "Melkor was aided by a spider-shaped horror from the Void. They it was who destroyed the Two Trees, slew our King, and stole many of Feanaro's greatest creations, including the Silmarils, in which the light of the Two Trees alone now lives."

"Where were the Valar?" cried a voice in the crowd. "Shame!" several voices took up the cry. Maedhros suddenly realized that this speech was sounding familiar – like a pale echo of his father's. He'd better do something about that...

"Orome and Tulkas are chasing him to the far north. But they too are hampered by the Unlight that blinded us when that Moringotto attacked us. I know that you felt the edges of it in Tirion, in Valmar, and on Taniquetil. Believe me, it is far, far worse when they are right there, in front of you…" his voice trailed off. There was no way to make anyone understand who had not been there, who had not faced the dark head-on and failed.

"People panicked. No one could see a thing, or think clearly to run a defense. Even stooping to pick up a rock was near to impossible, and many broke and fled. Those who did not flee, fainted at their posts. Except for Finwe. He stood alone in the Courtyard against Moringotto. I remember nothing after Moringotto broke the gates, but it is clear that-" Maedhros took a deep breath.

"Finwe tried to stop him, and Moringotto killed him for it. Then he stole the silmarils and many other fair things of Feanaro's making, and left, leaving Finwe lying dead in the middle of the courtyard."

An ugly growl came from the crowd. "And where were you and your brothers while all this was happening?" demanded a voice.

"I was over the gate, setting off a rockfall trap, and dropping rocks I couldn't see on horrors I couldn't see either. It enraged them, and we believe it lightly injured the spider, but it did not stop either her or Melkor. When the gates were stoven in, I lost consciousness. When I woke again, Melkor and his friend were long gone. My brothers' stories are similar. We were pitted against a foe too great for our minds, or even the minds of Orome and Tulkas, to withstand. They and Orome's host became confused and scattered when they hit the Unlight. That is why they were too late to help us."

"When Orome and his host finally arrived, they left three maia with us as defense and healers and went after Melkor themselves. Tylekormo, Curufinwe and I borrowed their horses and made for Tirion, where we met Nolofinwe and Findekano setting out to our aid. I believe Findekano and Arafinwe have already told you the rest."

More words then followed from both Findekano and himself, setting out how their brief regency was to work. Then it was over, and Maedhros followed his cousin back inside.

________________

The next two weeks were busy ones, organizing a city and a people used to endless light and slight shadows to survive in the dark. Maedhros made himself useful however he could. Having lived in the dark before, it didn't bother him, and there was a lot he could do to help the others. His concussion ebbed gradually to a mild headache that cropped up when he dealt with fools for too long.

At least it gave him an excuse for sharp remarks. Beleriand hadn't left him with much tolerance for fatuous idiots. People like that ended up getting others killed to salve their own egos.

These people were so unbelievably sheltered! Not only did most of them barely know which end of a sword to hold, in theory only as they'd never actually done so in their lives, they didn't know how to make a torch, tell north from star positions, make a bleeding candle, or stand a watch properly. They were going to have to learn better, and fast.

Not for the first time, Maedhros wondered if the elves had been wrong to follow the Valar to Valinor. It was beautiful, yes, but it was a paradise and gilded cage that could never have lasted forever. And losing it broke some people.

They had to send healers around because some of the more timid people began wasting away in fear, or their fea became lost in the dark. A few even died, though not many. Arafinwe proved to have a real talent for pulling people out of these fugue states, for which Maedhros found himself grateful. He wondered what might have happened if they'd had Arafinwe with them last time they were in Endore. He should probably be grateful Arafinwe hadn't been. He'd probably have ended up dying horribly, like so many others.


	10. Visions and Memories

Later, Findekáno looked back on these weeks as a breather between bouts of madness afflicting the world. It was busy and awkward, yes, but they were able to sort out everything between them. Arafinwë's calm demeanor and faith were a gift of the One, and Maitimo always seemed able to come up with a plan of action, or know how to do whatever was needed. It was good to have his cousin there, and not just because he was Findekáno's best friend.

His friend had changed much in the years spent in the north. He was harsher and sadder than the cousin he had known before, and seemed somehow much, much older. Older than Indis even, as impossible as that was. He did not speak much of what he had experienced or what he had Seen, but it lay between them like a sleeping tiger.

Finally, Findekáno decided he'd had enough. "Russandol," he said firmly.

His cousin looked up from the couch, where he sat staring moodily into the fire, and twirling a nearly empty wine glass in one hand. "What?" Maitimo asked.

"You've changed. What happened?" asked Findekáno.

Maitimo raised his eyebrows. "Banishment, the Darkening, Finwë's Death."

Findekáno hesitated, then shook his head. "I think there's something else bothering you as well, not that those things aren't terrible enough. Your eyes are different. You're suddenly downright paranoid about guarding a city that has never been under attack, and you snap at people because they don't have skills that we've never needed before in our lives. And where did you learn to fight left-handed like that? I've never seen anyone so good, and you're right-handed! Even that's not all! You're watching, always wary as if you're expecting to be attacked at any time. You're wearing a sword right now, and there's a dagger in your boot. What did you See that you haven't told me?"

Maitimo put the glass down, and pushed his hair back from his face. "A lot," he said bluntly, meeting Findkano's eyes. "I don't know how much of it is going to happen, because events are already diverging from what happened the first time around. It was bad, and this is only getting started."

"You can tell me," said Findekáno. "Have you told anyone what you saw? Makalaurë, maybe?"

Maitimo shook his head. "There wasn't time. I told Finwë that Melkor and Ungoliant were coming, and that the treelight would die, but he didn't fully believe me, and his actions just got even more people killed. I-"

"I believe you. Everyone knows you foresaw that now, and that it came true. You can tell me the rest, no matter how terrible. You don't have to do this alone."

Maitimo buried his face in his hands, muffling his voice slightly. "You shouldn't trust me, Finno. Everything I do turns to dust in the end."

"Like what?" demanded Findekáno. "So you failed to stop Finwë being a stubborn fool and getting himself killed. That's his fault, not yours. The same with your father's foolishness. I know how hard you tried to bridge the gap between our families, and if there's any failure it is as much mine as yours." Findekáno scooted along the couch and put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. Nelyo was tense as a coiled spring.

"It's not that," Nelyo said. "It's what I'll do, what I'll become in the future."

"In this future that you've seen?"

"Yes."

"But you've already told me it is diverging from what you saw."

"You don't understand," snapped Nelyo. "It's not visions, it's memories! I've done more evil than you will ever understand, and I dragged you into some of it. And got you killed!"

Findekáno's mind ground to a halt even as his mouth answered, "I was alive last time I looked."

Nelyo didn't laugh, speaking in a harsh, grating voice. "I am a mass murderer, and I don't deserve to live. The only reason I came back is that Eru wants me to fix my mistakes. I'm not someone you should trust, no matter how long we've been friends, or how much you care for me. I don't want to break you."

"I don't understand. That… what do you mean you came back and Eru wants you to fix your mistakes?"

"I don't entirely understand it either," Nelyo admitted. "After I died, Eru asked me if I regretted taking the Oath and my vile deeds in its pursuit. I told him I did. He told me that there was a place in the music, a DS al fine where a repeat was possible, and that I could go back and change things. Then I woke up in Formenos with a really bad headache and Makalaurë fussing over me.

"How did dying cause you to meet Eru? Are you sure it wasn't Námo?"

"He fished me out of the void after I killed myself, and I found myself in the Timeless Halls. It didn't sound like Námo and he told me he was Eru."

"You killed yourself? You mean you died of grief or weariness?" That didn't sound like Maitimo at all.

"No, I jumped off a cliff."

Findekáno just stared at his old friend.

Nelyo stared at the carpet, his face hidden by his hair. "Why?" Findekáno whispered. "Why would you do that?"

"I'd wrecked everything, done so much wrong, and there was nothing, nothing I could do that would ever make it right again. Better that I end it before I killed anyone else. I…" Nelyo trailed off, his shoulders shaking.

Findekáno didn't know what to say, so he just held his friend as he wept. Some minutes later, Nelyo added. "What I'm most scared of is that I'll end up doing it all over again."

"No," said Findekáno, giving Nelyo's shoulder a shake. "You won't do it over again. Eru would not have sent you back if that was all that was going to happen. He would not. And now I know, I won't let you, and you are going to listen to me because you don't want to do it again."

Nelyo started laughing through his tears, then said, "Ai, Fingon, how is it that you are so good at shaking me out of thoughts of despair?"

"Because I know you too well." said Findekáno, thinking _Fingon _?__

__"That you do indeed." Nelyo then told the strangest tale Findekáno had ever heard. His cousin spoke of oaths and bloodstained revenge that horrified Findekáno, of high courage and tragedy that left Findekáno feeling a little inadequate when compared to the larger-than-life figure that was apparently his future, of heroism that thrilled him and villainy that shocked him, of defeat and a victory unlooked-for that came too late for most. Of dwarves and mortal men, elves and orcs, dragons and eagles, twisted former maiar and ents. Of realms founded, flourishing, lost to the enemy and regained only to be lost beneath the waves forever._ _

__It was very late, the wine bottle was empty, and Nelyo was hoarse by the time the tale ended._ _

__Then one of the watchmen skidded in, “My lords, there is an armed host of elves approaching the gates!”_ _

__"Here comes Fëanáro," said Maitimo, standing and stretching. "We are out of time." They left together, to face the future that rushed towards them._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DS al Fine now with diacritics!
> 
> My beta friend made me a computer program to correct old fanfics so that they have correct diacritics for elvish languages. One of the more unusual and potentially useful Christmas presents I've been given in my life. So this fic should now have correct diacritics from chapter 10, and newly-posted Tolkien fanfics from me should have have correct diacritics too. Enjoy.


	11. Where is Nolofinwe?

Maedhros, followed closely by Findekáno, hurried along the hall and down the stairs. They came out at the top of the stairs leading down to the great square. The mindon lit the place with a fragile light akin to the moonlight of Middle-earth, aided by lamps on the walls. The square was almost empty.

"My Lords, it is Fëanáro!" cried a servant. "And a host of all who went to Formenos."

"He's breaking the ban of the Valar," said Anairë hotly, appearing behind them. "What madness grips him now? And where is my husband?"

"Maybe the Valar have granted him entrance under the circumstances?" suggested Findaráto, arriving from the other door. "We know nothing for certain as of yet. My Lord Regents Findekáno, Maitimo, what would you have us do? Shall they enter?"

Findekáno and Maitimo exchanged glances. "Yes," said Maedhros heavily. "I, for one, have no intention of shutting the gates in the faces of our King my father, for whom we are only regents. We do not have that right."

"What if Fëanáro does not have the Valar's permission? His followers are armed!" cried Artanis.

"Artanis, you saw them?" asked Maedhros.

She nodded.

"Did you see Nolofinwë or Írissë amongst them?" asked Maedhros.

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I came as quickly as I could. It is hard to say precisely who is with Fëanáro, but I did not see Nolofinwë or his banners."

"If that vile brother-in-law of mine has harmed my husband or daughter, I will stab him with his own sword," snarled Anairë.

"Get in line," snapped Lalwendë.

"Calm down everyone!" snapped Maedhros. "I will go to the gate, and ASK Fëanáro what he is doing and where Nolofinwë is."

"I answer to no son of Fëanáro!" returned Lalwendë.

"You can still listen to me." said Findekáno. "Calm down. Maitimo is by far the best-placed here to find out what Fëanáro is about, and where my father is." He turned to Maedhros and jerked his head in the direction of the gate, his eyes saying _I'm counting on you now _.__

__Maedhros nodded, and ran down the stairs and across the square towards the city gates. People stared to see him running, but he ignored them. He reached the gates some ten minutes or so later._ _

__The guards at the gate were confused, demanding orders. He told them to keep the gates open, and headed out at a fast walk to meet his father._ _

__His father's banners were obvious in the torch and lantern light as the host marched down the main road through the outskirts of Tirion, along with those of Maedhros' brothers. But no Nolofinwë or Írissë. What the hell was his father playing at? _Please tell me he hasn't started kinslaying early… _____

____Finally he neared them. Fëanáro held up his hand, and the host halted. It wasn't the most together halt he'd ever seen, but most of these were not soldiers. "Nelyafinwë, my son, how fares Tirion?"_ _ _ _

____"As well as can be expected, save for some who are panicking because they cannot see your brother's banners. Where is Nolofinwë?"_ _ _ _

____"He and his people are some few miles back. His horse threw a shoe when it spooked at something in the grass, and they stopped to fix it."_ _ _ _

____"Of all the confounded… and you did not think to wait?" Even as he spoke, Maedhros wondered if the horse had perhaps been 'helped' to lose the shoe. It would be a little too convenient if Nolofinwë was late to the great debate Fëanáro was probably planning._ _ _ _

____"Why should I? They'll be fine." Fëanáro smirked._ _ _ _

____Maedhros' eyes narrowed. "Because some of our kin back in Tirion fear you have harmed him."_ _ _ _

____"They what?" demanded Makalaurë. "We would never harm our kin," he said, gesturing gracefully. "Even in a rage Fëanáro never hurt Nolofinwë. He only drew sword on him to warn him. You know that!"_ _ _ _

____"The darkness gets into people's heads, and any horror seems plausible," said Maedhros. "But it would do us no harm to reassure them."_ _ _ _

____"Makalaurë, go ahead and reassure your uncle and cousins. Nelyo, you stay here and tell me what is happening in Tirion."_ _ _ _

____"Findekáno and the others are expecting me back," said Maedhros. "It's better if I go."_ _ _ _

____"No, I want you here," said Fëanáro._ _ _ _

____"Lalwendë and Anairë are already convinced you've harmed Nolofinwë, and they mistrust me less than they do Makalaurë. Send us both."_ _ _ _

____"No. If they mistrust Makalaurë, they will mistrust your lack of knowledge. Makalaurë, go."_ _ _ _

____Makalaurë threw his eldest brother an apologetic look and left._ _ _ _

____Maedhros capitulated. At least this way he could attempt to talk to his brothers and figure out if his father was up to exactly the same thing as he was last time. "They'll want to know what Fëanáro intends as well. Tell them – and tell Findekáno that we have NOT reached Alqualondë." He called after his brother's retreating figure._ _ _ _

____"I will," Makalaurë called back, sounding a bit puzzled as he urged his horse into a canter._ _ _ _

____"What is the mood like in Tirion?" Fëanor proceeded to question Maedhros intensely, and he had no time to speak to his brothers. Fëanáro did not answer Maedhros’ questions beyond saying he intended to speak to the people of Tirion. At least Maedhros managed to catch a glimpse of Nolofinwë's banner behind them, and confirm Fëanáro's account. He hated having to be so suspicious of his own father, but he could not forget what Fëanáro was capable of._ _ _ _

____The doors of the city were still open, and Fëanáro and his host entered without opposition, although many hands strayed to weapons as the people of Tirion watched the Exiles' return. Fëanáro made straight for the Great Square._ _ _ _


	12. Feanaro's Speech

The square was no longer empty, but people backed away as Fëanáro's host rode and strode into it. More curious folk followed behind them as the square continued to fill.  
Findekáno met them in the middle of the square, Arafinwë and many others of their family standing beside him. Makalaurë stood on his other side, looking isolated yet unruffled – unless you knew what that slightly too-perfect posture meant. He was nearly as scared as Maedhros.

"Findekáno, it is good to see you." said Fëanáro, coming forward but not dismounting. "You are now released from your vow and your burden."

"Where is my father?" demanded Findekáno. "He should be here. Where is he?"

"He is but a few miles behind and should be here within the hour. Surely Makalaurë told you?"

Makalaurë nodded. "I did."

"I saw Nolofinwë's banner in the distance," Maedhros added.

"You need have no fear for your father,” said Fëanáro. “His horse threw a shoe, but is unharmed, as is he. Your Oath spoke of laying down your regency at my return. How fares Tirion?"  
Findaráto spoke up: "Uncle, while you are by right our King, I understand you are still exiled by the Valar's order. Have you gone to them to get your exile lifted?"

"Who gave the Valar the right to choose the Noldor's King?" Fëanáro lifted his voice. "Especially given that the Valar's incompetence and outright negligence killed King Finwë."

Many in the crowd gasped at Fëanáro's accusation.

"Yes, our King is dead." He let that sink in for a moment, closing his eyes and bowing his head. When he raised it again, his eyes shone with grief and rage so powerful that Maedhros felt his own stir likewise. He really ought to find a way to stop this, but it would be like trying to stop the tide from rising. The Valar deserved it, anyway.

"That vile Moringotto killed my father, and left him lying on the ground like a slaughtered beast, and others of my people beside. The Silmarils are gone! The only treelight in this world is in the accursed hands of my father's murderer. My sons tried to stop him, and some were wounded in so doing. Curufinwë and Nelyafinwë even managed to land a blow on Moringotto's monstrous accomplice. I am damned proud of them today, even though they failed to save our King or the Silmarils." His voice dropped so that those at the back of the crowd would have to strain to hear. "But where were the Valar while this was happening?"

"Sat deedless and weeping beside the dead trees, with two _honourable _exceptions," here Fëanáro sneered, "Oromë and Tulkas, who were running around in circles the dark, and didn't turn up until after their Kinsman had been and done his worst."__

__"For how many yéni have we done all as the Valar demanded? We sat at their feet, admired them, worshipped them! And this is how they repay us. Yet this is not the worst of it."  
"Oromë and Tulkas now hunt the Silmarils to retrieve them from their Kinsman. A good thing, surely, and showing their goodwill towards us whom they claim to love and protect?"_ _

__"I wish it were so, but it is not," he said softly. "They seek the Silmarils for their own sake, and not for ours. They wish to break them to restore light to the dead Trees, if such is even possible at such a late date. A good thing, surely, even if they," his voice hardened, "failed to ask my permission to destroy my greatest works?" He let that hang for a moment._ _

__"Many of you may not know that when as much of one's own soul has been poured into creating a magical artifact as I did creating the Silmarils, breaking that artifact will kill the creator."_ _

__"In the Valar's mind, my place is to die, and they had not even the courtesy to inform me of this and apologize, let alone ask permission! And if they are willing to kill me to suit their convenience, what else are they willing to do to us whenever it suits them? If they truly cared for us, they would have let the Moringotto rot in Mandos for what he did to the elves of Cuvienien and none of this current disaster would ever have happened! But no, he is Manwë's brother and must be allowed his second and third chances while sending my Father, our King, to Mandos in his stead!" Tears streaked Fëanáro's cheeks, but neither his voice, nor the fire in his eyes wavered._ _

__"They insist that we are free, but we might as well be thralls for all the power we have over our own destiny. I don't know about you, but I will be thrall to no one. We have other options, better ones than being the Valar's pets and playthings." He leaned over and snatched the torch out of Tyelko's hand, causing his son's horse to shy away and lay his ears back. Fëanáro held it high, the torch's light bathing his face in flickering flame and shining reflected in his eyes._ _

__"In Cuvienen, sweet waters ran beneath unclouded stars, and wide lands around them, where a free people might walk. They are there still, even if we fools left them for the shining cage of Valinor. We can go back, and build a free land without being at the mercy of the Valar every day of our lives."_ _

__Fëanáro spoke of the Middle-earth he had studied in his long poring over ancient lore, and of mortal men, doomed to supplant the elves and take their place. Maedhros almost came out of it then. Stubborn, wilfull, greedy, cowardly or heroic by turns, mortal men were many things, but easily ruled by the Valar wasn't one of them._ _

__Maedhros remembered Beleriand and the North. The wide plains of Ard-galen on a summer day beneath the sun, Himring's bright banners as he rode home after a patrol, fire… the ships burning, Dorthonion and Ard-galen burning, forge-flames in depths of Angband, Thangorodrim, Glaurung, hearing the news of Fingon's death, searching for Eluréd and Elurín through the bitter cold of Doriath's emptied forests. The Valar might not be perfect, but there were worse things out there. _Like me. _____

____"I will take all brave enough to follow me to Middle-earth, where we will take back what is ours, and bring the Moringotto to justice, as Manwë has failed to do!"_ _ _ _

____Maedhros opened his mouth to speak, but another voice spoke first._ _ _ _

____"If you believe that, brother, you are deluding yourself," said Nolofinwë. Maedhros turned to look behind. His uncle stood at the entry to the square, disgust warring with anger on his face. "When has Manwë ever treated us as thralls?" Nolofinwë demanded. "The Valar have ever treated us with kindness and consideration."_ _ _ _

____"So thinks the fatted calf as it is being led to the slaughter," returned Fëanáro. "Given the Valar's failure to properly police their own, I would rather take my safety and that of my people into my own hands. It will be harder, yes, but at least I can be certain that I will not forget due to being too busy making merry."_ _ _ _

____"And you plan to do what, exactly, when you finally run into Melkor?" demanded Nolofinwë. "Melkor's a Vala, you fool. I've seen with my own eyes the mess he made of Formenos' gates and would-be defenders. You'll get yourself killed, along with everyone fool enough to follow you, and he will still have your Silmarils!"_ _ _ _

____"Well stay then, little brother, if you are so afraid of dying that your newly-given word to follow my lead in all things is worthless." said Fëanáro, and started to turn back to address the people once more._ _ _ _

____"I gave my word to follow your lead assuming that you were sane," cried Nolofinwë, "and not about to leap into Mandos' arms dragging all the Noldor with you! I also swore Oaths to the Noldor as the Regent of Tirion, to _serve and protect _my people. You don't even know what that means, do you?"___ _ _ _

______"How dare you speak to Father like that," screamed Carnistir, starting to draw his sword. Maedhros lunged to grab his arm, forcing Carnistir to drop the blade from suddenly numb fingers. "What did you do that for?" Carnistir demanded._ _ _ _ _ _

______"What were you going to do with that, brother?" Maedhros demanded. "Kill our uncle? This is a matter for words, not blows." Carnistir pouted, and cradled his wrist. "Wasn't going to kill him," he muttered. “Just frighten him a little.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Would you have your son strike me down for speaking the truth?" said Nolofinwë. "Oh, I forgot, you were exiled for threatening to do so yourself. He takes after you, I see, more's the pity."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"And you are being pointlessly offensive," said Makalaurë. "If you break your oath to our father, your rightful King, then you are an oathbreaker and a traitor, and he has every right to point that out."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"He should never have taken the oath in the first place," yelled Lalwendë. "We should stay right here where we belong."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Calm down," said Arafinwë. "There is no need to make a decision right this second, and this will be the most important decision since we left for Valinor. Moringotto is long gone at this point – spending time to reflect will harm us not at all, even if some of us do decide in the end to leave. And Fëanáro, Nolofinwë, why are you allowing him who you call Moringotto's lies to continue to set you at each others' throats?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Arafinwë is right," said Maedhros. "If we cannot work together, it will always aid our enemies. How Moringotto would laugh to see us now. If we are to leave, we need to plan what to take, and how we're going to get so many thousands of people to the other side of the sea. The Valar are not going to be dragging any islands across the ocean for us this time."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"No, this needs to be settled now, while everyone is here!" said Fëanáro, glaring at his wayward eldest, who glared back. "As for planning,” Fëanáro continued, “that is pointless until I know who is coming to seek a new land, where we can be free. I know I am not the only courageous man in this courageous people."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Are you calling me a coward for being loyal to the Valar, and for thinking?" demanded Nolofinwë._ _ _ _ _ _

______"That depends on your actions, my brother," said Fëanáro. "You do as you will, my faithless brother, but I will avenge my father, and take back our treasures from Moringotto, if I must travel to the ends of the earth." He drew his sword and held it high._ _ _ _ _ _

______"He is not alone," cried Curufinwë, and drew his. Tyelkormo and the others followed, save Maedhros._ _ _ _ _ _

______Fëanáro cried: "Hear me, all of you: Against Morin-"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"No!" screamed Maedhros, and flung himself at his father's feet "Don't do it! Not again. You will not destroy us again." His brothers stared at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Why are you being such a bloody coward?" said Fëanáro, tearing away from Maedhros' hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Against Moringotto –" Maedhros could hear others following his father's voice._ _ _ _ _ _

______Maedhros jumped to his feet and punched his father in the face. The horse reared, and Fëanáro fell off, blood streaming from his nose, eyes open wide in total shock._ _ _ _ _ _


	13. Consequences

Maedhros was abruptly aware of the total silence surrounding them. Makalaurë’s mouth was open. “That was to prevent you calling Manwë, Varda, and Eru to witness us all taking an oath of Vengeance against Moringotto and anyone else who dares keep or hold the Silmarils -- with everlasting darkness as our doom when we fail,” said Maedhros. “You will destroy our family, and the Noldor. I will follow you to Middle-earth and fight Moringotto beside you, but I will never swear that oath nor stand silent while you damn yourself and my brothers.” He hesitated, then looked at his father sitting sprawled on the ground, shock warring with rage in his eyes as he clutched his face. Maedhros added “Would you like a handkerchief?” Maybe he shouldn’t have hit him quite that hard.

“Get away from him,” snapped Curufinwë, offering a handkerchief of his own and getting in between his eldest brother and their father. “How dare you strike our father!”

“I thought you said this is a matter for words?” muttered Carnistir as he grabbed Maedhros’ arm. “How come you can punch father while I can’t lay a finger on uncle Nolofinwë when he’s being an offensive bastard?”

“If Father has his way, the violence is never going to stop, and you will die killing other elves as they try frantically to defend their lord,” said Maedhros, allowing his brother to pull him away from Fëanáro. He hadn’t intended to hit his father. What would happen now?

“Just lean forward so you’re not swallowing it,” Maedhros heard Curufinwë say. “Yes, like that.”

“Maitimo, what in the name of all the Valar?” hissed Makalaurë, coming over and glaring up at Maedhros. “You are going to tell me what is going on, and explain why I should trust you with that sword you’re carrying.”

Maedhros tensed, but didn’t move to stop him. “Go ahead and take it if you want, I’ll not be using it on anyone,” he said. He didn’t think his father would actually kill him… and if he did, it wasn’t as if Mandos was likely to compete with Angband when he hadn’t even killed anyone this time round. “You’ll notice I didn’t use it just now. I also have a dagger in my left boot. You can take that too if you want.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes,” snapped Makalaurë. He lowered his voice: “Did you really foresee Father swear an oath calling on Eru to damn us all to eternal darkness if we failed to retake the Silmarils?” His eyes pleaded for this not to be true.

“I did,” said Maedhros. “Do you honestly think I would have begged him on my knees not to if I hadn’t? Let alone bloodied his nose when he ignored me. Eru doesn’t want us to swear it, and said he won’t hold us to it if we do.”

“You were right about the Trees,” said Makalaurë, obviously struggling to reconcile all this with his image of his father. “You saw Eru?!” 

“How do you think I know all this when, as Finwë pointed out, I don’t get visions?” Maedhros sighed. “I should have told you all this from the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m not sure I would have believed you before I’d seen some of them come to pass before my eyes,” said Makalaurë. He sighed. “Keep the sword. Just don’t use it, or look like you’re about to.”

Maedhros nodded. “Thank you.”

Behind them, Fëanáro had gotten to his feet, and was loudly insisting that while he had every intention of fighting Moringotto, he would never damn them to eternal darkness, not least because they wouldn’t fail of their object.

“You will if you take that Oath and try to keep it,” yelled Maedhros, wondering if his father would ever speak to him again after this. At least Findekáno understood, and Makalaurë was starting to. “It will wreck havoc on everything we try and do because getting anyone else to cooperate with us will be like pulling eyeteeth. Just go fight Moringotto, and lay off that bloody Oath.”

“Get him out of here, and make sure he stays away and silent.” demanded Fëanáro. 

Maedhros allowed Carnistir to pull him away and out of the square, figuring that everybody knew where he stood by now. It also got Carnistir’s temper out of the square, which wasn’t a bad thing.

The two brothers looked at each other, standing in the deserted street just outside the square of the Mindon. Neither found anything to say, and after a while they shifted to watching the stars wheel by overhead, clear and cold and far above the schemes of the Noldor below.

That brought thoughts of Eärendil, Vingilot and a silmaril. Though maybe… having refused the Oath, the Gil-Estel would be a sign of hope for him too, this time around. He’d changed things, all right. But would it be enough? What was Fëanáro doing, and saying, even now in the square behind him?

The babble of voices and what sounded like people trying to shout over each other reached him, but he could not be certain what they said.  
________

They were interrupted from their stargazing by the breakup of the meeting hours later. People began to stream past them. “What is happening?” asked Maedhros. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re to assemble in the square five days from now with food, weapons and all our gear,” said the elf, before vanishing into the gloom.

“So we are leaving,” said Maedhros softly. Just so long as his brothers hadn’t sworn any oaths…

“Nobody can resist father for long when he sets his mind to something,” said Carnistir.

“Even Nolofinwë?” asked Maedhros.

“Nolofinwë’s a pain,” said Carnistir.

Maedhros snorted softly. He’d figured out long ago that part of the reason Fëanáro hated his brother so much was that Nolofinwë was too stubborn and strong-willed to be cowed or stampeded when he disagreed. Finwë might be stubborn, but his guilt made him easy for Fëanáro to manipulate, and his sons he could overawe or intimidate on the rare occasion when genuine respect or covert manipulation didn’t work.

The first of the House of Finwë Maedhros saw was Artanis. She stopped and looked up at him. “We really must talk about what you saw in those visions of yours,” she said. “But for now, I need to go and get ready for the journey. I will see you soon.” With that, she headed off down the street, followed by her two of her brothers. 

Findaráto stopped to talk. “Did you see Middle-earth?” he asked. “What is it like?”

“Large and varied,” said Maedhros. “The region Moringotto has fled to is icy mountains. South of it is a great plain, then there are mountains, forests, lakes, and a huge river called Sirion. We won’t be alone there either. Olwë’s brother Elwë rules a kingdom, and there are lots of scattered small peoples outside it. Also some non-elven peoples.”

Findaráto paled. “And they don’t have the Valar to protect them. Are they in great danger?”

“The ones outside Doriath, yes. There were battles fought even before we got there, and the elves did not come off well.”

Findaráto nodded, his face set. “Perhaps this wild-goose chase of Fëanáro’s shall be worth it after all, then,” he said.

“It does have some redeeming features beyond causing trouble for Moringotto, yes,” Maedhros agreed, feeling suddenly awkward. He hadn’t been anything but a menace to the Sindar for how many decades before his death? For that matter… how long was it since he’d really thought or cared about anyone but the Noldor? Mandos’ bloody Doom! There were Noldor at Sirion who he’d slain, probably without knowing or caring which ones were not merely elves but the very people whom he had once, however briefly, been High King of? He’d led his followers to their own deaths for fear of his family’s damnation, which he had only succeeded in winding tighter around them. How long was it since he’d cared about anyone but his brothers and himself?

“Maitimo, what’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet,” said Findaráto.

Maedhros opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“Leave him alone.” said Carnistir.

“The price will be very high,” Maedhros finally said. “It’s not his fault, Carnistir. Tell me, Findaráto, did my Father or any of my brothers swear any oaths against Moringotto?”

“No,” said Findaráto. “Fëanáro made a lot of noise, but finally settled for saying that Oath or none he would chase Moringotto to the ends of the earth until he destroyed him and recovered the Silmarils, or died trying.”

“Praise Eru,” whispered Maedhros. “It worked, it actually worked!” With that, he burst into tears, which completely shocked himself. How long had it been since he’d wept in front of anyone but Makalaurë or Findekáno?

The others, and some passers-by were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, but he was too happy to care.


	14. Unfinished Business

It was a few minutes after that when the rest of House Fëanáro arrived. Fëanáro looked a sight, with his face and clothing still bloody from Maedhros’ fist. His eyes narrowed as he looked on his eldest son and heir. But all he said was “Follow me.”

So they left Findaráto behind them, heading for the outer walls of the city where Fëanáro’s people were making an encampment, as he no longer trusted the city his brother had ruled. It was only when they were inside the large central pavilion Maedhros remembered so vividly from the first trip to Middle-earth, that Fëanáro turned on him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” he demanded, glaring up at his eldest son. “Care to explain why you messed up my very carefully crafted plans by punching me in the face in front of the entire Noldor population? Luckily for you, the Valar hate me too much to care, but you’d better have a damn good reason.” He noticed the wide-eyed brothers. “The rest of you, out!” He made a shooing gesture with one hand. They shood.

“You were about to set in motion a series of terrible events that could not be undone, and would lead to you and all of your sons damning themselves in pursuit of that Oath,” said Maedhros. “Trying to keep it will kill you, the Ambarussa, Curvo, Tyelko, and Moryo, and will kill most of those who trust in you. It will also kill a lot of people who simply had the bad luck to be in our way, and make the name of Fëanor hated throughout Beleriand as being synonymous with the slaying of kin by kin, rather than with genius and power. Is that what you want?”

“Is this from that vision you had?”

“Yes, the same ones that told me what Moringotto was about to do to the Trees. I saw a lot of the future, and it was terrible.”

“Really,” said Fëanáro. “Yet I swore no Oath. Where does that leave your precious vision?”

“It means events are diverging from what I foresaw, and as they diverge more the visions will become less relevant. It’s a good change, father. Whatever you do, don’t swear that damning Oath.”

“I am not convinced. Show me your vision.”

Maedhros froze. He didn’t do ósanwë. Not after… 

“You are making this up, and I won’t stand for being made a fool of.” said Fëanáro. “Either show me, or shut up about your visions.”

Maedhros swallowed, and hesitated. This was not going to be pleasant, not for either of them. Yet if it was the only way to get Fëanáro to believe him… on Fëanáro’s head be the consequences.

“Go ahead,” said Maedhros. “I’ll try and get my barriers down.” Fëanáro looked a little confused at this, but nodded.

Maedhros did try to lower his shields, but the second his Father’s mind brushed his they sprang right back up again. 

Fëanáro rubbed his forehead and winced. “Again.” he said. The same thing happened again the next time. The third time, Fëanáro smashed through half-there shields.

And everything went to hell. Literally, with Maedhros struggling to remember that the image of Moringotto’s face thrown into sharp relief by the Silmarils he was seeing couldn’t possibly be real, and nor was the pain. He threw everything he had into throwing his shields back up.

After what seemed like an eternity but probably wasn’t, Maedhros found himself kneeling on the rug with a splitting headache. At an odd sound he looked up, squinting, just in time to see his father vomit all over the floor a couple of feet away. They both backed away from it, looking rather green.

“Sorry,” said Maedhros. “I did not mean that to happen.”

“What was that?” Fëanáro asked. “That wasn’t like any vision I have ever seen. Moringotto, what did he do to you?” His voice cracked.

“I…” Maedhros swallowed and looked away. “I got captured. It was bad. This is why I don’t do ósanwë anymore.”

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to go to Middle-earth, and I won’t try to stop you from staying,” said Fëanáro, still looking ill.

“I’m going,” said Maedhros. 

“Why?” asked Fëanáro, now looking completely confused. 

“I don’t belong in Valinor now, if I ever truly did,” said Maedhros. “After Findekáno rescued me,” here Fëanáro’s eyes widened, “I relearned how to fight with my left hand. I am a warrior, and a warlord, and I’m good at it. Better at it than anything I do here, except maybe dancing or chess,” Maedhros snorted. “The ability to fight and defend yourself and others in Beleriand is the difference between life and death for a leader and those who follow him. Besides… do you know who is leading the elves of Beleriand? I do. Can you speak to them in their own languages? I can. Do you know who Moringotto’s lieutenants are, and what their strengths and weaknesses are? Do you know where his fortress of Angband is, what forms the bulk of his armies, and his typical attack plans? I do. You need me, the Noldor need me.” 

“How do you know all this?” asked Fëanáro. “No, I believe you, but this is beyond any single vision or vision cascade I have ever heard of!”

“Eru. He spoke to me, and-” Maedhros decided that since he actually had his father’s full attention right now, and father was always far too good at finding all the holes in half-truths, he’d tell him the whole thing. “he sent my fëa back in time from several yéni into the future, with memories of that entire time and orders to try and fix my mistakes.”

Fëanáro shook his head. “Valar. I would have said that was impossible, and yet-” he grinned suddenly. It wasn’t a nice smile. “So where has Moringotto gone to ground, then?” he asked.

“The far northwest of Middle-earth, in a fortress called Angamando, though in Sindarin it is Angband. It is underground, beneath a very tall mountain range, and no power of elves, dwarves or men combined ever managed to take it. It took an expedition from Valinor headed by Eönwë to do that, but they didn’t turn up until almost all of us were dead anyway.”

Fëanáro frowned, looking like he wanted to argue but didn’t have what he needed to do so yet. “In that case, how did Findekáno manage to rescue you?”

“Moringotto had hung me by one hand from one of the Thangorodrim. They’re gate towers, but mountain-tall. The idea was that if anyone was mad enough to come looking for me, they would see me but be unable to reach me. He didn’t expect Findekáno to have an eagle of Manwë come and help Findekáno get to me.”

“Where was I while this was happening?” asked Fëanáro. “And your brothers?”

“You were dead by then, after having attacked Moringotto’s Valaraukar rearguard– er. Evil maiar - all by yourself because you’d outdistanced your army. Please don’t do that,” said Maedhros. “As for my brothers, there was a significant time between when he took me captive and when he hung me outside as a taunt. I wasn’t in a place from which they could rescue me, and they gave me up for dead, never realizing I had been moved to somewhere slightly more accessible later.” 

“Findekáno didn’t arrive in Middle-earth until after that time was over, and he wasn’t willing to give up on me without trying to find me himself.” Maedhros glossed over the fact that his brother’s search-and-rescue attempt had been half-hearted at best. They’d completely lost confidence after losing two High Kings in one week, and he would not have been hanging on the wall for them to find if they had gotten that far. There was no point in having Fëanáro angry at Makalaurë for something he hadn’t done and was never going to need to do this time.

Fëanáro scowled, and moved to sit next to him and embrace him tightly. Maedhros allowed the embrace, hoping it meant his father would stick around without retreating into the madness of vengeance again for a while. If only he could make his father truly think, for once. “You should never have had to endure that.” Fëanáro said. “How long… were you there?” 

“About eleven years of the sun – a little under a tenth of a yéni.” said Maedhros. Fëanáro stared at his son in horror, then snarled,“I’ll make that vile piece of filth regret he ever entered Arda!”

“I’ll help, and gladly, but we need to plan this out in advance,” said Maedhros. “How are we going to get to Middle-earth?”

“Talk the Teleri into joining us,” said Fëanáro.

“That is not going to be easy,” said Maedhros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A) Why I chose Maedhros as the time-traveller. I picked Maedhros for three reasons 1) he'd done some very bad things but I think he was right on the edge of repenting and would likely make different decisions a second time 2) he was powerful enough to have some impact on events but not powerful enough that there would be no drama or suspense (if I sent back a repentant Fëanor from the end of time, the story would be over rather quickly), and 3) Tolkien made some comment in the Histories of Middle-earth that I read years ago that seemed to say that people who commit suicide would not be accepted to Mandos (or would they end up in the void or was it simply would never be re-embodied? I’m not sure).
> 
> That bothered me, since it wasn't said about those guilty of murder, and I thought that if an 80% of the way to repenting Maedhros were to end up in the void with Beleriand newly sunk at the hands of a maia-led, Valar-sanctioned army, Eru just might take major action. I understand the view that suicide is throwing God's gift back in his face and is therefore a terrible thing to do, but it tends to be done when in such emotional pain that I doubt this is why most people do it. Having Eru be this harsh to people who kill themselves tends to clash with my own view of God... Eru isn't precisely the Christian God that both JRR Tolkien and I worship, but he's pretty solidly based on Him.
> 
> So I had Eru take pity on Maedhros, at the same time as correcting his misconceptions and offering him a chance to serve. It isn't an easy out, since no matter what he manages to change, he's going to have to exist with his horrific memories for the rest of time, as the only person who has experienced that timeline. And if he fails… he will carry that knowledge for rest of time, as well as having to relive the events in question.
> 
> In the non-AU version of what I think is happening, I assume he's in Mandos along with the rest of his family.
> 
> A/N: B) I am going to be playing fast and loose with Tolkien’s timeline, since I don’t find it realistic for Mandos to take 10 years after the first kinslaying to get around to pronouncing the Doom of Mandos, or for the Noldor to take 19 years to cross the Helcaraxë. Even if the winds and currents are pushing the ice away from Middle-earth, that just doesn’t make sense to me. So a lot of stuff is going to happen more quickly. It makes it easier to keep the tension in the story up, too.


	15. Planning and Preparation

Meanwhile, Makalaurë lay awake, trying to put all the disparate pieces together. Whatever Maitimo had said to his father, it appeared to have healed the breach. Fëanáro now appeared worried and protective of his eldest son. Maitimo, meanwhile, seemed utterly exhausted, but also relieved and smiling. This somehow involved vomit and tears. Makalaurë shifted, trying to get comfortable in his bedroll. He’d need to get used to sleeping in worse places soon. He’d get the truth out of Maitimo in the end, he always did. 

His thoughts spiralled to the great adventure to come. Middle-earth! How long had they dreamed and spoken and wondered about this day? Makalaurë wished suddenly that they’d left earlier, in happier times. Moringotto ruined everything he touched. They had longed to explore Middle-earth, but this wasn’t some peaceful expedition to discover the unknown. They would be going into battle, and from Maitimo’s reaction, this would not be easy, or safe, and stood a good chance of ending in horror. But really, what did they have left to lose? Ruin and desolation in a no longer gilded cage? At least this way, Moringotto would pay, and they would reclaim the Silmarils.  
_____________

The main planning meeting began the next day in the Great Hall. Maedhros looked over the throng as he took his place at his father’s right hand. Every adult, or near-adult, member of the House of Finwë was there, along with assorted advisors attached mostly to Fëanáro and Nolofinwë, plus the heads of the more important noble houses of the Noldor. They filled the largest of the banquet tables, but their warlike garb and sheathed swords looked out of place in their peaceful and elegant surroundings.

The mistrustful looks and occasional glares between Nolofinwë’s partisans and Fëanáro’s weren’t helping matters, either. Who had decided to put Fëanáro’s partisans all on one side of the table, and Nolofinwë’s on the other? Too late to change that now, and at least it made literal murder at council less likely.

Fëanáro looked both distinguished and warlike in armor with Finwë’s crown on his head as he stood to call everyone to order... only to have Findis object to the assumption that they were all leaving Valinor. “I will not leave, no matter what madness has afflicted my half-brother. I took no oath to follow him wherever he led,” and here she glared at Nolofinwë. “I trust the Valar. They will heal this land, and it will be beautiful again. They have never let us down.”

“I’d say they have let us down now, half-sister,” Fëanáro replied. “As witness King Finwë’s absence and the candles on this table against the dark.”

And so the debate left yesterday reared its ugly head, until Fëanáro finally pounded his fist on the table, “Get out, then,” he roared. “If you are so tamed that nothing in Arda can make you leave, then why are you here? The rest of us have work to do!”

Findis stood, whirled on her heel, and stormed from the room. She was not alone. Anairë followed her, along with a few of the advisors. Nolofinwë stared after them, an expression of shock on his face as he half-rose, standing frozen for a few seconds before sitting back down, his face like stone. Beside him, Lalwendë laid a hand on his shoulder, worry on her face, but he shook her hand away.

Fëanáro visibly swallowed, looking like he wanted to say something to Nolofinwë, but for once couldn’t find the right words. 

After some more awkward looks and throat-clearing, they settled down to arguing about what to do about the Valar. Should they tell them they were leaving, or even ask assistance? Fëanáro was dead-set against asking permission, saying that it was easier to gain forgiveness than permission, and he was going no matter what the Valar thought. Tyelkormo said that the Valar probably already knew, and could they please just get on with it? Arafinwë, meanwhile, was strongly in favor of seeking their aid. Nolofinwë didn’t participate much -- but he didn’t leave, either. 

There was a lot to be done. Messages needed to be sent to Alqualondë requesting aid with ships, and in case that didn’t work, Maedhros insisted that they bring every piece of cold weather and mountaineering gear they had. If the Noldor had to cross the Helcaraxë, they’d do it properly this time. If they went by sea, well, they’d still need the gear to deal with Dor Daedeloth, Ered Engrin and Thangorodrim, should they manage to get so far. They would bring enough food for three months, and plan on augmenting their supplies with hunting,   
gathering and fishing as they went. With the many thousands migrating, it was not going to be a swift journey, nor a simple one.

As for the Teleri, both Maedhros and Arafinwë voiced the opinion that getting help from the Teleri without the Valar’s approval might be a serious problem. “Mother, Maitimo and I should go and speak to Olwë,” suggested Findaráto. “He needs to hear from Maitimo about the danger to Elwë and his people. I’m sure that once he knows that Moringotto is loose there, he will help us with ships, and maybe more.”

“I care little about how we convince him to aid us, so long as he does,” said Fëanáro. “Do you think you can convince him?”

“I think Maitimo can. Olwë needs to hear for himself from the one who had the visions, not my second-hand report. Eärwen could really help, also. Mother?”

Eärwen sighed. “I really don’t like any of this,” she said. “I understand that you think we need to take revenge on Moringotto, and rescue Elwë’s folk, but we are but elves, not Valar. Melkor is a Vala, fallen though he be. Even Finwë could not stand against him, and if, as Maitimo says, Melkor has a fortress and Úmaiar waiting for him, how can we win? We cannot do this without the Valar. It is madness to try.”

“But will you help us convince your father?” Maitimo asked.

Eärwen hesitated. “I cannot convince someone of what I do not believe myself.”

“Arafinwë? I know you get along well with your father in law.” said Fëanáro.

Arafinwë frowned. “I am of like mind with my wife,” he said. “I would not convince Olwë either. I will follow you,” he said to Fëanáro, “but only because I cannot convince even my own children to stay behind.” He frowned at Findaráto and Artanis, both of whom stared back, unrepentant.

“Then it looks like it will be up to Maitimo and Findaráto to convince Olwë to aid us,” said Fëanáro. “In the hands of children be it. I assume you will not refuse me?” 

“I will go,” said Maedhros.

“As will I,” said Findaráto. “Our quest to stop Moringotto is dangerous, but I believe it worthwhile.” He smiled at Maedhros, who smiled back. The Felagund as a partner in negotiations with his non-Noldor relatives? Yes please!

The planning continued, but Findaráto and Maedhros left to pack, and set out for Alqualondë some few hours later. 

As they were winding their way up through the Calacirya, Findaráto turned to Maedhros, an intense expression on his face. “Tell what you have foreseen we will find, once we get there.”

“Events have already veered far from what I saw, and will no doubt continue to do so,” said Maedhros. He fell silent for a few moments, the only sounds the clopping of their horses’ hooves on the cobbled street. “What do you most want to know?”

“Will we make it in time? Or are Elwë and his people going to have to fight Moringotto alone? And will there be anything left of them by the time we get there?”

“We did not make it in time to rescue them from the first assault of Moringotto’s army. They survived, for the most part. When we arrived, the eldar had divided into several groups. Doriath is the largest and most powerful, under King Elu Thingol – um. Elwë, and his wife Melian the Maia.”

“His queen is a maia! How did that happen? I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

“I don’t really know. I never actually met them, as they stayed inside the Girdle of Melian – a maze of bewildering enchantments. Unless you are invited, you become hopelessly lost and had better hope the guards find you before you starve to death.”

“That sounds criminally dangerous,” said Findaráto, sounding a little shocked.

“Everyone knew it was there,” said Maedhros. “Findaráto, Beleriand is a dangerous place, and a harsh one. With the war, there is little patience for fools.” 

“Maybe so,” said Findaráto. “But there must be a better way.”

Maedhros refrained from pointing out that Finrod’s Nargothrond had been notorious for shooting at intruders from hiding, up to and including poisoned arrows – though the latter had mostly been under Orodreth’s rule. His cousin would learn. The innocent always did, or they died. Or they mostly learned, and then died anyway. He shook his head, trying to remove the memory of that vile recurring nightmare of being hauled off to that dark pit of a cell in Angband and finding Finrod’s body on the floor, broken-chained and entangled with the corpse of a werewolf.

They spoke a little more, with Maedhros giving Findaráto a rundown on all the major factions in play in Beleriand and the North at the arrival of the Noldor: Falathrim, North Sindar, Laiquendi, Belegost and Nogrod, the Eagles of Manwë and the Ents.

“I had no idea that there were so many people in Middle-earth. I’d assumed it was empty of more than a few wandering bands of Avari and a small group of Elwë’s people. And the dwarves – they sound so strange. Why were we told nothing of them at all?”

“Azaghal told me that Aulë made them, but they had not been part of Eru’s original plan. They got adopted once they existed, and they are as much people as you or I. You got along quite with them quite well. They even gave you a khuzdul name, which they don’t do to many. I don’t have one. They called you Felak-gundu. It means ‘hewer of caves’.” Maedhros laughed at the confused expression on his cousin’s face, and refused to tell him why the dwarves called him that. Thus they passed over the Calacirya, and headed out the other side on the long road towards the south. 

Over the next week, Maedhros told his cousin much about the situation they would find in Beleriand, and began teaching him Sindarin. He was a quick study, and Maedhros was confident he’d have it at a useful level by the time they reached Endórë. The fact he was a native speaker of Telerin helped. Maedhros’ Telerin was rather rusty, and he was a little concerned he might not be as useful dealing with Olwë as he had hoped. So they worked on that as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Observant readers may have noticed that Finrod is more in favor of the trek to Beleriand this time. The reason is the lack of worries about the Oath, and his knowledge that people, including relatives of his, are in danger from Morgoth every second they delay. Of course, he’s also got his wanderlust and dreams of a country of his own pulling forward the same as last time, it’s just that he has additional reasons as well now. And yes, he’s young here. Not the Finrod Felagund who died saving Beren’s life yet.


	16. Negotiations with Olwe

It was strange to be back in Alqualondë again, especially a fully-dark Alqualondë that lacked even the dim Treelight outlines of the mountains. It was misty again, and the stars were veiled. Maedhros had been here often enough in nightmares over the centuries that he couldn’t help feeling he was riding into a nightmare with no way out. This was despite the fact there was no Oath of Fëanor this time, and that he was determined his mission would not end in kinslaying.

He hoped. Whether they would get the ships they needed was another matter, though. He really did not want to lead everyone into the teeth of the Helcaraxë. Of those who had taken that route last time, too few had lived to tell the tale. 

They were ushered into Olwë’s presence with little delay. They met in a small private study with a mosaic of dolphins on the wall, and just the three of them. Olwë welcomed them warmly, and they settled into chairs. “I have heard of the loss of my friend Finwë,” said Olwë. He shook his head, sorrow shining in his eyes. “I am sorry for your loss, and grieve myself. How fare the Noldor now? Have you news from the Valar? Have they caught Melkor?”

“We thank you for your kind wishes, Grandfather,” said Findaráto. “We have heard nothing from the Valar since Oromë and Tulkas left Formenos in persuit of him some hours after the death of the Trees. He was heading for Middle-earth.”

Olwë sighed. “I fear he may escape punishment. It may take the Valar some time to track him down, if he has escaped to Middle-earth.”

“I fear so also, Grandfather. And the Noldor are planning to do something about it.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Olwë. “If you intend to petition the Valar to speed up the chase and to tell us their plans, I will back you. Who rules Tirion now?”

“My father, King Fëanáro,” said Maedhros. “Given how little the Valar seem willing or able to do about their fallen brother, we intend to follow him to Middle-earth and bring him to bay ourselves. We do not dare wait for the Valar because there are folk in Middle-earth already who are at risk, some of whom are terribly ill-equipped to fight Moringotto and his armies. Your brother has founded a kingdom there, but he has not the strength to protect all those who need it. I do not believe his kingdom can stand for long without our aid. The North Sindar, the Havens and the Nandor certainly cannot.”

“Valar protect us! Elwë? My brother was lost before we ever entered Aman. I searched for him for many years, and we found no sign. How do you know any of this?” He looked Maedhros up and down, and his gaze was neither friendly nor impressed.

“I know because I was given visions by Eru of the the future we were facing. I know that your brother lives, and that those of your people who are in that land are in terrible danger.”

“Grandfather, Nelyafinwë foresaw the Death of the Trees before they happened, and Moringotto’s assault on Formenos.” said Findaráto. “You can believe his visions. They are true.”

“If you foresaw this, why did you not tell anyone?” demanded Olwë.

“He did,” said Findaráto. “There was no time to act. The Unlight had fallen before we received the Feanorian birds. By the time Oromë reached Formenos, King Finwë was dead and the Silmarils were gone. Although he tells me Nolofinwë did not go to Formenos in his vision,” he turned to Maedhros, who nodded. Findaráto continued “He tells me Fëanáro in the vision swore an oath to take back the Silmarils and take vengeance on Moringotto. In the name of Eru Illuvatar and all of the Valar.”

“Fëanáro didn’t do that this time,” Maedhros interjected hastily.

“Have the Noldor all gone mad?” demanded Olwë, standing up and starting to pace. “I know that your father has spoken of travelling back to Middle-earth, but to do so now? Suicidal madness! What else has happened that you have not told me of yet?”

They then explained events in more detail, and their aim in being here.

“We would all be delighted if some of your people would join us in our quest to stop Moringotto, retrieve the Silmarils and rescue our Úmanyar relatives, but what we really need is transportation. If you would loan us ships and mariners with which to reach Middle-earth, that would be a great help all by itself.” said Maedhros.

“No,” said Olwë, shaking his head. He stopped, frowning. “What say the Valar of all this?”

“Nothing,” said Findaráto. “They have not said a single word to us since Oromë left Formenos. I have to believe they are working to deal with all this,” he gestured to the darkness outside the window, “but meanwhile, our King is dead, our kin are in danger, and Moringotto is getting away with everything. I cannot sit here and do nothing. None of us can!”

“But this hasn’t a hope of working,” said Olwë. “I cannot ask my mariners to risk themselves on such suicidal madness. It would be different if the Valar had sanctioned it, and it had their help and protection. But to rebel against the Valar, under a leader still banished from Tirion...”

“We came here freely,” says Maedhros, “and the Valar have never said we are not allowed to leave. If we aren’t allowed to leave, then we are prisoners in all but name. We’re willing to take the risk of their displeasure with our actions.”

“And every day we spend asking permission is a day that our relatives are alone against Moringotto,” said Findaráto. “I would like the Valar’s help, and yours as well, but if we must do without it, then we will. I have faith the Valar will come to help eventually, but you have to admit they have not moved as swiftly as events demand. And when the great will not or cannot act, then smaller hands must do so.”

“That’s a very fine sentiment, Grandson, but you have no understanding of what you do. You are a child who knows nothing but Valinor. I have walked under the stars of the wide lands of the East, where dark things hide in the shadows.”

“And you would leave your own brother there, with Moringotto loose?” demanded Findaráto.

“How dare you!” snapped Olwë. “You know nothing of what you speak. The danger and darkness is why Teleri, Noldor, and Vanyar all fled to Valinor. Elwë is older than I am, and capable of making his own decisions. Let him and his people come here, if they are threatened beyond what they can bear.” He glared at Findaráto, clenching and unclenching his hands, then visibly forced himself to calm. “You cannot reach Middle-earth without my help, and you will not have it without the Valar’s approval.”

“Actually, we can,” said Maedhros. “By walking across the Helcaraxë. It can be done, but not without death and terrible hardship. And we will go, with or without your approval and your ships.”

Findaráto looked at Maedhros in startlement, a look almost of fear on his face. 

Maedhros pressed on, his eyes on Olwë. “The only question is how many lives will be lost, and how much time we might have been aiding your kin against Moringotto. If you would but lend us your ships so that we may help your kin against the murderer of our grandfather and your friend, they will live.”

“The Noldor have gone mad! All of you!” said Olwë. 

“I know your ships are to you as the Noldor’s stolen jewels are to us, and I give you my and my father and King’s word that they will be returned to you as soon as possible.” Maedhros had exacted this promise from Fëanáro before he had left Tirion.

“I cannot order my people into such despairing folly. We came to Valinor seeking safety, and found it.” He sounded almost pleading. “Middle-earth may be beautiful, but it is deadly even without Melkor there. With him loose...”

“Surely some would be willing to volunteer, if they knew the danger their relatives are in. There’s hardly a family in Alqualondë that did not leave someone in Endórë over the course of the Great Journey,” said Findaráto softly. “The journey would take longer with fewer ships, but it could be done.”

Olwë sighed. “I fear I am letting you go to your deaths,” he confessed.

“Not your fault, Grandfather,” said Findaráto, moving to lay his hand on his grandfather’s arm. “You are merely making the journey less difficult and dangerous. As Nelyafinwë said, we will go, one way or another.”

“I would speak to Fëanáro,” said Olwë.

“He should be here with the host within the next two to three weeks,” said Maedhros.

“If I cannot dissuade the Noldor, I will allow him to speak to my people, and any who are willing may carry you across the sea in their ships. I will not lend you ships with no experienced mariners, for the Belegaer is no place for the novice seaman, and I want you to get there alive, and to return our ships afterwards.” He held up a hand. “I do not guarantee that any will be willing.”

“Thank you, King Olwë,” said Maedhros, bowing deeply. “We will not forget this act of trust and friendship.”

Meanwhile, in Tirion...

Findekáno walked swiftly towards the main gate of Tirion with a message from his father to Fëanáro. Ahead of them, Fëanáro’s followers marched towards the main gates. The vanguard were almost there. Findekáno couldn’t help but be impressed by the view. The army of the Noldor stretched as far as his eye could see, and further. Some of it was simple hunting bows and spears, but a surprising number of people had turned out to have swords and armor, and all were now borne openly.

As Fëanáro arrived at Tirion’s main gate, a mighty form appeared, standing atop the gate tower. “It’s Eönwë, the Herald of Manwë” someone nearer the front cried. The host stopped its forward motion, milling about a little and straining for a look at Manwë’s herald. Finally the Valar had answered. What would they have to say?

Eönwë cried out in a clear and powerful voice that was heard even by the most distant among the crowd: “Against the folly of Fëanor shall be set my counsel only. Go not forth! For the hour is evil, and your road leads to sorrow that ye do not forsee. No aid will the Valar lend ye in this quest; but neither will they hinder ye; for this ye shall know: as ye came hither freely, freely shall ye depart. And Fëanáro, to thee especially I say: The lies of Melkor thou shalt unlearn in bitterness. Vala he is, thou saist. Then your quest be vain, for none of the Valar canst thou overcome now or ever within the halls of Eä, not though Eru had made thee thrice greater than thou art.”

But Fëanor laughed, and spoke, not to Manwë’s herald, but to the Noldor: “So we are warned that danger and sorrow lie ahead. But in Aman we have seen it. In Aman we have come through bliss to woe. The other now we will try: through sorrow to find joy; or freedom, at the least.”

Then turning to the herald he cried: “Say this to Manwë Súlimo, High King of Arda: If Fëanor cannot overthrow Moringotto, at least he delays not to assail him, and sits not idle in grief. And it may be that Eru has set in me and my people a fire greater than thou knowest. Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it. Yea, in the end, they shall follow me. Farewell!”

And Eönwë the Herald of Manwë bowed before him and departed.

Findekáno watched this in silence, and an anger grew in him. No sorrow for the death of Finwë. No attempt to tell the Eldar what the Valar had been doing for the past weeks. A bleak warning not to leave, and refusal of any and all help. Maitimo had told him of the peoples of Middle-earth that lay in danger from Moringotto. Did the Valar care nothing for them? He expected nothing better of Fëanáro, but he had always trusted Manwë to have the best interests of the elves at heart. Now he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fëanor and Eönwë’s exchange is directly from the Silmarillion, with a few tweaks such as the removal of all references to the Oath of Fëanor that was never taken in this timeline.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 2: This story's basic idea was influenced by Kenobi Skywalkers' story Duplicity.
> 
> I started writing this story several years ago for fanfiction.net, and had never bothered with some of the Umlauts and similar markings that it doesn't handle well. I started trying to fix this partway through posting it here, with help from a friend with better computer skills than me.


End file.
